Noir
by TattoedTeardrops
Summary: SHIELD has many secrets, but this one secret is bigger than the most. The hushed voices whispered through the night called him 'Noir'. The tainted hero, the fallen prince. Unpredictable, unconquerable. "He's one with the sea. You can't restrain him, all you can do is to go with the flow" /Pairings undecided ATM/
1. Prologue

It was strange, eerie, as pale blue eyes observed tge situation. It was a sight far from what he was used to seeing. The sounds of footsteps, the familliar tell-tale sound of heels, the occasional quiet murmurs— it's gone. Instead suffocating silence filled the air.

It wasn't the silence that spooked him, no, it was the storm you can feel in the air. A calm before a storm. His hand came to press the ear-com as the all-to-familliar sound of buzzing of the ear-com filtered through.

' _Agent Barton, please immediately evacuate the area. You are strictly forbidden from entering by the director himself. '_

The warning went unheeded as the man— now known as Barton— trudged through the rooms. Normally, he wouldn't ignore such orders, but then again, this was no normal circumstances.

He can almost feel the storm— now a hurricane, raining down torrents of water, drenching everything but nothing at the same time. The pressure got heavier and heavier, weighing him down, slowing him, as if it does not want to be found. _Well_ , he thought, _some_ _rules_ _are_ _meant_ _to_ _be_ _broken_. Later on he thought again; _dammit_ , _Stark_ _must've_ _rubbed_ _off_ _on_ _me_.

A clang on a room to his left gathered his attention. Making sure he kept his back pressed firmly to the wall as a mean of precation if whoever or whatever it was decided to be hostile, he entered the room.

\--

In all his years, Clint Barton never believed in such things as the saying 'pitch black'. Nothing could have been that dark. But right now, standing in this very room, he found himself believing it.

Even with a _single_ shred of light— the only one — not too far away, the darkness was unbearable. Or maybe it was the pressure of a storm brewing in the still air. Either way, it was suffocating him, drowning him, as if it was _forcing_ him to kneel. He could've sworn he heard it saying things, _whispering_ a command.

 _Kneel...bow down to me..._

Gritting his teeth, he forced himself to focus on what was beyond the single shred of light. Sometimes, the darkest secret was hidden behind a veil of truth.

 _...stop resisting..._

There! A single silhouette was all Barton could see. His breath got caught up in his throat as he watched the figure danced with a— was that a _sword_? Still, the fluid movement of this person was inhumane. No one could have done that.

... _surrender..._

The pressure intensified as the speed and grace of the movement increased. It was as if the figure cloaked in shadows was one with the sword. A dance of blades, a ballad of death.

Not to soon, the pressure became unbearable.

... _kneel... kneel... kneel..._

The swordman's movement became deadlier as he stepped closer and closer to the shred of light. Barton could now see glimpses of porcelain-like skin.

... _kneel... kneel... kneel..._

Barton gasped as the force knocked him down, forcing him on his knees. His eyes widened in both panic and anticipation.

... _kneel.. kneel.._ _kneelkneelkneelKNEELKNEELKNEELKNE_ —

His breath once again got caught up in his throat as he saw the sea-green orbs of the mystery figure. All movement stopped, the voices disappeared, and the mysterious figure promptly lowered down the sword.

"Who...are you? "

No emotions could be read from the figure. Barton could have imagined a face set stone cold, _unfeeling_ and _uncaring_ framing the sea-like eyes. He fought back a shiver as he saw the fury beneath the ice-like layer of those orbs.

A storm waiting to break loose.

His question went unanswered as the figure stepped back from the light and back into the shadows. As soon as it happened, the pressure evaporated, leaving Barton yet again gasping for breath.

"Hey wait! "

He got up onto his feet and into the darkness, which seemed not as dark as before. Strange, but not as peculiar as the figure before.

He was fairly certain the figure ran this way, so he chased after him only to find— _nothing_. Only a faint scent of the sea. As if the figure seemed to have _evaporated_ like sea-foam.

He didn't know how _right_ he was until later on.

Shivering slightly, he brought his hand to his ear-com once more as the buzzing sounded again

 _'Agent Barton, please evacuate the area immediately. No questions, director's orders'_

Snapping out of his daze, he got out of there as fast as he could. He would later deny the claims of running out of that area. He still had his pride to keep after all.

Yet, no matter how hard he tried to shake of the memory, he found himself unable to forget those sea-green orbs.

\--

 **Wew, so... how was it? I finally did it. I've been wanting to publish this fic for a while. Please tell me what you think. Building criticism is respected.**

 **Sorry for any spelling errors, English is _not_ my first languange.**

 **Will try to make the chapters longer next time. And, I'm not sure yet about the pairings. Maybe slash, maybe none at all. Tell me what you think.**

 **Guess this is it for now dudes, _au Revoir!_**


	2. I

_Noire (or noir) is the French word for black..._

\--

Tony of all people should have known his actions will have repercussions, especially if a certain dark-skinned, bald-headed, one-eyed _pirate_ of all people was concerned.

"What?! _It_ is **_not_** gonna stay in my tower!"

Multiple sighs sounded all over the room as he glared at the— one and only, Nick Fury. Said man was currently sitting at the head of the table, meeting his eyes unflinchingly. _I swear_ , Tony cursed, _this is what happens when you mess with Karma._

"For the last time you foolish mortal, I am **_not_** an _it_ "

Turning his head around to meet a certain trickster, his glare amplified. Why on earth would Fury even allow the blasted _reindeer_ to even enter Earth was beyond him.

Green eyes stared at him unflinchingly, coldly, _unfeeling_. Pale skin glistening in the moonlight that managed to filter through the curtains, a contrast against the straight black hair that flowed down to the shoulders of the man.

At moments like this Tony was reminded that the one that sat before him was not mortal, no, he was a _god._ A Norse god.

If someone was to tell him a few years ago that he would meet such crazy immortal beings, he would have just laughed and told whoever it is to get home and stop drinking so much, but right now, he would waste no second upon believing it.

Power thrummed in the air. Invisible, untouchable, _powerful._

He swore that last time he met the man— no, _god,_ he had not been this powerful. Sure, he had tasted something in the air, small, not noticeable, like a tickle of a feather, but right now, gone was the goose that had the feather, instead in its place was a charging rhino, slamming him into the wall, brutally smashing him over and over again.

No, this was not the trickster he once fought against, this was someone new, someone _powerful_

Clint, on the other hand, felt a strange sense of dejá vu. His mind flashed back to a meeting he would have never forgotten.

The same hum of power, the same roar of the currents, gradually getting higher and higher, drowning him, suffocating him, _bewitching_ him.

 _...kneel..._

No, not this again...

... _kneel..._

Never...

 _...surrender..._

No...

 _...bow down..._

Stop it..stop it...

 _..KNEELKNEELKNEELKNEEL.._

...stopit..stopit..stopitstopitSTOPITSTOPITSTOPITSTOPITSTOPITSTOP—

Silence filled his head, the voices and his own thoughts were gone.

"Clint?"

Snapping open his eyes, he found himself staring at concerned green eyes of a certain assassin.

 _Are you okay?_

Clint nodded once to answer the silent question. It was strange, could it be that the trickster was the one he met that night? No, he can't be.

He knew that whoever the mystery figure was bore quite a resemblance with the trickster— pale porcelain-like skin, cold green eyes, the same grace and power, yet again the same _whispers._..

But no, they were too different. Akin to a an arrow flying from a bow, every _thwack_ is different, no matter how alike all of it are to others. It's like a heartbeat, every person is a different rhythm, and every beat is a new song.

"Clint? "

Snapping hinself out of his thoughts, he looked up at his teammates. The concerned looks thrown at him were both touching and annoying.

"Where's Fury?"

That seemed to broke the trance as they shuffled around some. Bruce only gazed at him with more worry, his fingers twitching around nervously. The captain was the same as Bruce, those blue eyes piercing him, silently asking about the problem. Natasha regarded him with cool green eyes, face impassive and emotionless, her gaze hard and cold, yet there was a tint of worry and question. Thor was, for once, only stared at him concernedly, gone was the loud and brash warrior, in his place was a prince, a _future_ king. Tony on the other hand—

"What?! _Bird_ _Brain_! I was worrying my pretty face off about you and _this_ is how you _repay_ me? Asking about _Fury?!_ What about me?! "

Sighing, Clint regarded the other god in the room. Piercing green eyes met his, and he fought back a shiver. No, he thought, this is not _him._ Just before he exited the room, he turned to the god once more.

"I still don't trust you"

The air thrummed with power as his green eyes met his once again. A small smirk made its way to the god's face. Yet, even then, his cold eyes betrayed that small curve of his lips, destroying the image of innocence, showing the danger that lurks underneath.

"You should'nt..."

\--

Dark chocolate eyes scanned the monitor, observing the disaster that happened not too long ago. Men were scurrying around, panicking as the bodies of their comrades dropped down. Cold. Unfeeling. _Dead._

The chittering and clicking sounds of those demons accompanied the carnage, their soulless black eyes staring blankly with only one goal in mind. To wreak havoc. To cause as many destructions as possible.

Savagely, brutally, _mercilessly._

A dagger went through one, followed by a familliar ripple of bronze. The blade glistening in the dim coppery light of the room, the trident near the rain-guard glowing dangerously.

The said demon went down, but not before launching its last attack, killing a nearby man. _Kamikaze,_ _the suicide attacks._ One thing for sure, a part that he morbidly admired about these demon from space, was their principle.

They'll never go down without taking another with them.

The blur of bronze once again caught his attention, followed soon by a dash of silver. They danced among the chaos, creating more to suit their needs. Along the dim lighting, the pallid skin stood out even more. Their unnatural, _surreal_ look now stained with dark, _disgusting_ blood of those Chitauri.

All of a sudden, a stray shot from a blaster destroyed the lightings in the room, shrouding the remaining occupants in darkness. It was then when the fighting ceased to exist. The unability to see providing a little peace in the midst of battle.

 _Silence_ _...deafening silence.._

It was at a time like this the silence became overwhelming. A taste of war lingered in the air, making him twitch in anticipation even though he's only watching a recorded event. Nevertheless, his being craved for the heat of battle, for the cold _sanctuary_ was gnawing at his every nerve. He knew the peace wont last long, it was just a little taste, _mocking_ him.

Something was coming, and it brought a fear upon the quietness.

 _...a calm before a storm..._

A shriek was heard that soon turned to a bloodcurdling scream. It was horrible. The sound was like a knife against a smooth surface. _Chilling to the bones..._

Amidst the darkness, the glowing green orbs was the only source of light, fueled by hate and anger for the Chitauri. There was a storm beneath the calm look, a bomb ready and waiting for a chance to break through. DangerousWarningTerrifying.

... _a frozen fury.._

There was fire beneath the ice, a perfect combination between hot, hellish wrath and cold, chilling brutality.

 _Perfect._..

Soon, more of those chilling sound could be heard. One by one, struck down in the dark without leaving any chances to retaliate. Not even a chance to _see._

It was like watching an event in a slaughterhouse. You know what's happening yet you can do nothing to stop it.

It almost made him feel sorry. _Almost._

Soon, the screams died down and the glow of green dimmed. _It was over_ _, but for how long?_

Standing in the middle of it all was one of his best, dare he say, _the_ best agent he had on the field. The demon of the battlefield, the wild one, the _untamable._

He had to admit he was hesitant to recruit the agent at the tender age of seventeen, afraid to bring him to a world of death, destruction, and chaos. A world where you stop trusting others, for only yourself should be trusted. A world where sentiments is your greatest weakness. A world of _burden,_ taking it from an another's shoulders to put it on yours.

 _A world of sacrifice..._

But no, the young man had been persistent. And that persistence was what made him special in the director's eyes.

He had to admit, he was baffled from the lack of emotions the young man had shown during his 'supposedly' first kill. No signs of remorse, no hesitance when pulling the trigger, not even a _flinch_ from neither the scream the victim erupted nor the loud _bang_ of a gun.

 _Nothing..._.. _the perfect killing machine._.

Ever since that day, his name had been whispered through agents after agents. The hushed voices carrying fear and a tint of curiosity. They called him the 'Noir'.

The young man had gone on mission after mission, each was a success, no failures. At a time like this, Fury worried about his young charge becoming arrogant, the fame getting into his head. But his fears was not to be worried about, it seemed like his charge respected his privacy.

The rumours of Noir was never proven to be true, so they died down. Though at times, Fury could still hear them talking about it.

The doors to his office were opened and the young man from the recording strode into the room. His inhumane grace and appearance only known by Fury and a few others. As usual, neither smiles nor a scowling greeted Fury, only an impassive and cold face.

"Jackson.. "

"Fury... "

"What happened?! "

The man, Jackson, turned his piercing green eyes to Fury. His face a mask of calmness, though Fury could see the roaring waves underneath.

"...seems like they're smarter than they looked... "

Sighing, Fury stood and walked over to the other. Eyeing the agent, he tried to decipher anything different about him. So far he seemed to be fine, but Fury knew that things were not how they seemed to be.

"Where is it? "

"That's the thing director..."

"What? "

"I'm not quite sure if it's true... "

"What?! "

Slamming his hands on his desk, Fury glared at the other. Hot, smoldering eyes glared at the other occupant in the room, demanding answers.

"It's _inside_ me"

\--

 **Wew, so how was that? Please forgive me for the typos, I wrote this with my phone.**

 ** _Damn,_ not sure what made it turned out this way, but oh well, all is good.**

 **Please give me a review, they always made my day.**

 **And as always, constructive criticism is welcomed.**

 **...well, c'ya next time...**

 ** _Au revoir..._**


	3. II

_"How can you trust someone_

 _who has not proven their_

 _worthiness?_

 _Simple, you don't..."_

\--

Truth be told, Loki had little to no idea on why he was sent here. He knew he was going to be punished, but the idea of sending him _here_ was preposterous. He remembered clearly the day of his trial. Oh, how could he forget.

He had been chained down to the ground in the middle of the throne room, the elders surrounding him, sitting on their high chairs with their chin up. They were trying so hard to keep a calm and brave facade, but one can not lie to a liesmith.

He could smell it, the sweet and tangy smell of fear. It was getting into his head, making him go high and gnawing at his restraint not to just break his bonds and cause more.

They're _foolish_ to think such measly restraints can contain him.

But no, he waited patiently on what they were going to decide. Patience is the key to success, he learned that the hard way. He was too impatient the last he attacked, too arrogant in his forces he didn't think of the possibilities that the _measly_ humans had their own force.

After all, Pride was one of the deadliest sins, and _soon_ , that Pride is what will bring down all of Asgard on their knees.

The air was full of unease, a clear sign they were disturbed by his presence. He couldn't stop the feral grin making its way onto his face. The tangy taste lingering in the air increased as with the presence of his grin. Oh, how he loved the wonderfully sweet taste of fear.

 _Cowards..._

A single, lone eye caught his attention. A single _blue_ eye of the All Father. It was reflecting all sorts of emotions, but one stood out the most— pity.

 _...disgusting..._

Outside, he may might have looked indifferent, unfeeling, _unattached._ Grinning dangerously like a madman, uncaring about what was going to happen. But beneath that mask, a hurricane was hidden.

The ocean inside churning with hate and contempt, gnawing, _begging_ to be released. To unleash vengeance upon the All Father to satisfy its nerves. He could feel the magic, the _seidr_ all around him, tempting him, _begging_ to be taken and used to wreak havoc upon Asgard.

... _kill him..._

Not now...

 _...break him..._

...not yet...

 _...bring him on his knees..._

...patience...

 _...destroy them all..._

...soon.

\--

It's been a few months, the time ticking by so fast it was like a _blur._ Yet no one came to him, not even Clint himself.

The air around Loki seemed to grow colder with every second that has passed, biting, gnawing, _caressing_ his every nerve with malice. Yet even then Clint ignored the warnings and watched him from afar, his curiosity and wariness getting the best of him. With eyes as sharp as a hawk— hence his code name, _Hawkeye—_ he watched his every move, noting them down in an invisible space in the back of his mind. _Like a hunter watching its prey,_ Clint mused silently.

 _...but you are not the hunter now, are you?_

Clint tensed as the suffocating aura flooded him, bringing him down, dragging him to the bottom of the pit, _chained_. He could feel the heavy glare, and the pressure increased. His knees wobbled and he fell, clutching, _scratching_ at his throat as stars danced and darkness went in and out of his vision. _Fool..._

No...

... _weak..._

...no...please...

 _..useless..._

...stop it...

 _...pathetic..._

Nonononononoican'tbreathesomeonesavemehelpmeSTOPIT—

Just as quickly as it came, the pressure disappeared and Clint dropped to the ground. His vision was incoherent. He felt the burning sensation in his eyes, threatening to break free and trail down his cheeks and onto the ground.

 _Natasha...help...please...anyone..._

And then he drowned in the increasing darkness.

\--

Steve was never one to believe in gods, as in, _plural_. No, he only knew one god, and that whom he was fairly certain won't be fighting over poptarts, swinging a hammer that nearly _decapitated_ him while his red cape swishing around behind him like a fox's tail.

"Imbecil..."

And for once, Steve agreed, no matter how insulting that word was. At times like this he wished he had never insisted on joining the army.

He could feel a nagging sensation at the back of his mind, telling him to be wary of this man, no, _god_. He could feel it, the invisible chains wrapping around him, dragging him, _demanding_ his submissiveness. _No_ , he thought, _not_ _to_ _this_ _god_.

He tried to barricade his mind with iron bars, anything to block it out, _anything_. But it was persistent, like a battering ram destroying the fortress he had built, reducing it to splinters and ashes. _Unstoppable_...

He could hear it, destroying every single wall he made, tearing it down like a _hurricane_. He could feel it, gnawing at his ressolve, biting his bones, shattering him from the inside out.

 _Help...please..._

He couldn't hold it back anymore, the frost creeping in into his mind, slowly, surely, _definitely_. He couldn't breathe, the ice preventing him from thinking clearly, clouding his vision with frost. _Please,_ he pleaded desperately, _no more._ He had spent enough time to remember the cold embrace of frost, the loneliness of the darkness that once engulfed him. It was worse than any chain man could find, better than any prison ever made.

 _No...don't let me in that cold hell again...please..._

It was hellish, burning in a different way, a _slow_ and _torturous_ way. Licking, nipping, taunting him with isolation, destroying his every reason to live— people. Steve was a social man, he cared more for others tthan for himself, that was one of the reasons he was called 'captain'. He remembered the nightmare clearly, chained in a glass-like prison, unable to do anything, _helpless_.

 _Some_ _bodysavemeIcan'tholditbackanymoresavemehelpmeANYONE_ —

"STEVE!"

His vision swam in and out of focus, barely registering anything but the voice. It was familliar, not quite _soft_ but still brought a sense of calmness. He whipped his head around to meet deep blue orbs.

 _Clint?_

"Barton? What happened to you?"

Barton's clothes was disheveled, as if the bed had been far comfier than usual and he just can't resist it. He was shivering slightly, skin pale and almost translucent, reminding Steve about the moment earlier he'd rather forget.

In the midst of pallid skin, the red stripes stood more prominent, like bloodshed in the middle of winter, coating the ground in rubies,simply _eye-catching._ Clint was panting slightly, and he knew that the captain saw the state he was in and had probably assumed the worst.

"What happened to _me?_! You might want to check the mirror captain, 'cause you're not that good yourself..."

He saw the slight shift of Steve's shoulders, the uncertainty flickering for a few moments in his eyes as he avoided staring right back in his own. He could feel the doubt in the air, the worry of his state.

 _What are you going to do about it, captain?_

It was an unspoken challenge, as he stared at Steve, his face set in a iron mask. He never did like the foul taste of pity, and while it wasn't it, it still treaded _too_ close to the dangerous waters, taunting the demons, stirring them, _riling_ them up. _Come on Steve_ , he thought, _drop it._

"Barton, I—"

The familliar crack and and buzz of the AI saved him from furtger interrogation, and he had never felt more glad for that than now. The voice of JARVIS filtered through the room.

' _All Avengers are required to be inside the meeting room in five minutes, director's_ _orders_ '

Clint inwardly groaned, it was never a good sign when the director got involved. The last time he did, it was for the whole Ultron shenanigan. To be fair, it was mostly Tony's fault, and Clint _did_ agree in becoming an agent, but nevertheless, he had come to dread the word 'director'.

 _Well, let's see what the pirate has in store for us..._

\--

In all his years, he had never expected the director to be the one to bring him _here_ of all places. Inwardly, he cursed the fates for his damnable luck. He was sitting patiently, shadows serving as a barrier between him and the other as they slowly start filtering in to the room. One by one, the empty chairs disappeared, the air that once occupied them changed into a group of seven.

 _Seven half-bloods shall answer the call..._

An unwanted memory played through his mind, remembering him of the pain it brought. He could smell the blood, the coppery liquid pooling around him, dripping from his every wound.

 _To storm or fire the world must fall._...

He could feel it, the heat of battle, the _bloodlust._ It was destroying his resolve, _shedding_ every single bit of things that made him human. He could feel the hurricane brewing, the hot feeling of his blood burning, tensing in anticipation, _yearning_ for war.

 _An oath to keep to a final breath..._

His memory flashed backwards to a painful event, coated in wine. _Bittersweet._ He still remembered the sky-blue eyes and the mischievous smile, and he could still see the dull, broken look of those eyes, as if a storm had come and refused to go away. The smile now painful, a _grimace_.

He still remembered the day when he left him behind, the day those broken but still beautiful eyes lost their spark. The day he had taken the knife for Olympus, for _him._

"...do you still love me?"

 _Luke...yes...I still do..._

It was that day when he felt it, the feeling of loss, the mourning for the death of a comrade, a _brother-in-arms._ It still stings, even though his own heart had dulled all those years ago.

 _And foes bear arms to the Doors of Death..._

A flash of brown, _hazel_ eyes and a waft of cinnamon accompanied by a military-cut and a _thwack_ of an arrow. A journey North and the smell of wax. A flash of red and the aroma of dust. And finally, a feather of a raven and the cold embrace of the sea. _Drowning,_ _trapping,_ _enchanting._

Then it was hot, burning him, dragging him to _hell._ He remembered the gasoline flowing down his throat, coursing through his veins. The pain of endless running, fighting, _surviving_. The _snap_ as something within him broke, tainting him, destroying his innocence.

 _Noir..._

He remembered the small sanctuary he had, the feeling of comfort he found in his supposed enemy. It gave him a feeling of hope, hope that he could escaoe the darkness inside him, to be _free._ But then the tiny little bubble of hope was destroyed, so quickly, so _devastatingly._

"Tell the stars I say hello..."

 _No...don't leave me..._

"I can see the stars again m'lady..."

... _please..._

A loud bang interrupted him, saving him from his memories, allowing him to run away from his past, even if only for a little while. He turned to see that Fury had come into the room. It was starting soon, and it was fraying his nerves with a taste of anticipation.

 _Storm in the waiting..._

\--

" ** _The idea of waiting is sometimes more excruciating than the act, because you can just feel the storm brewing, yet you don't know when the lightning will strike"_**

 ** _~ Silver_**

 **So how was it? I know some of you are confused, but it'll make sense as the story goes.**

 **And how 'bout that quote in the end? Patience...dear readers...patience.**

 **Please please please please review, I'd like to know what you think about this story.**

 **And to a few of you:**

 **• Guardian'sDragonOfDeath : Thanks, and btw, love your username.**

 **• Dragonette716 : Thanks for the info, I'll try to watch out for it in future chapters.**

 **• Guest (u know wat I'm talkin' about): Sorry, but I just love leaving cliffhangers. I know I'm a freaking sadist. XD**

 **• linn li : Glad to hear about that linn... :)**

 **• ChaoticMinds : Thanks for the tip, I'll look out for it in future chapters. I absolutely _adore_ your username.**

 **• Guest (another one?! Get an account will ya?) : Well, being mysterious _is_ my forte...**

 **• Guest (seriously?) : Well, be sure to be on the lookout for future chapters.**

 **• A-Ravenclaw-Demigoddess (Annabeth? dat u?) : Like I said, it'll all make sense, and I'm glad to hear you're interested.**

 **Wew, that's about it. See ya guys on the next chapter, _au revoir!_**


	4. III

_Hiraeth_

 _(n)_

 _a homesickness for a home you can't return to,_

 _or that never was_.

\--

Lightning flashed across the sky, lighting up the sky for the briefest moment before disappearing. It was rough, antsy, the lightning danced in a ballet with the thunder in an erratic beat, as if waiting for something.

 _You can't have storms without rain..._

Electric blue eyes glanced around the area, taking everything and nothing in at once. The blue pools were swimming with anticipation and nervousness, and every single nerve on his body was tingling with the sense of eagerness and dread.

Something was coming, and he knew about it.

 _Those who knew of the storm fear the calm before it..._

A few moments later, the smell of the sea wafted in through his nose. He could feel the saltiness lingering in the air, could almost _taste_ it. It was powerful, overwhelming, _beating_ with every hum of magic like a _heartbeat_.

"Poseidon..."

Dark green eyes regarded the other catiously, like an ocean at storm. His lips curled into a smile which did not betray his emotions, _detestment._ His body tensed, hands itching, wanting nothing more than to destroy the being in front of him. But no, he could see the shadows surrounding him, the guilt eating him away, _weighing_ him down— and he _detested_ him more because of that.

"Zeus..."

The other, Zeus shifted slightly, uncomfortable despite the brave facade he tried to keep up. He knew his brother was powerful— an _equal,_ no matter how much as he tried to deny it. His brother was chosen as the ruler of the seas for a reason. Uncontrollable, unpredictable, untamable _, wild._

 _You can't restrain the sea, for it will always fight back, tooth and nail..._

"What do you see, brother?"

Poseidon shifted slightly, his eyes ttaking in his surroundings. The bright lights of the city below them were sparkling brightly, covering up the natural beauties up in the sky. The rhythmic beat of everyday life was beating strong and steady, like a heartbeat, pumping life to the city. The smell of smoke and beer accompanied the black silhouettes of the people down in the city, covering them like the shadows did.

"I see a heart, pumping with all its strength, beating a noisy yet relieving beat, each one is different from the last."

Zeus nodded slightly, his ears listening yet his mind and heart not comprehending, the heavy weight and the foul taste of guilt clogging his mind, poisoning his being.

"A heart is an organ of great importance, as it pumps life for the whole body. It beats a strong yet gentle tune like a lullaby, calming, soothing, controlling—"

"Get to the point, Zeus!"

Green eyes glared at the other darkly, the storm inside flickering, _churning._ He had not come here just to listen to his brother's nonsense.

"...we used to have one, Poseidon..."

Confusion flickered through the storm, stopping it momentarily as Poseidon looked at the other.

 _But our hearts have stopped beating a long time ago, brother..._

As if an answer to the silent question, Zeus tore his gaze away to look at the city humming with life below the. There were times when he wondered how it felt to be one of these mortals, uncaring of this world, unburdened with all the problems, completely _oblivious_.

"...we made a mistake..."

"What?"

It was rare for the king of the gods to admit his mistake this easily, seeing as the king was a man of great ego that refused to back down from anything.

It pooled a sense of dread in Poseidon's stomach, like a monster stirring, swimming up higher and higher, breaking the surface. And like how the water broke, the memories flowed.

"...why now?"

It was soft yet hard, like a sword in its sheath. Poseidon gritted his teeth as he averted his eyes to look at the scenery below, avoiding the electric orbs as they turned to look at him.

"I was foolish— _afraid_. He was the unknown, and part of the sea. Uncontrollable, unconquerable, _wild._ A _free_ spirit. He's your son—"

"— _was_ my son."

Thunder and lightning flashed in sky blue eyes as they met the rainstorm behind the sea-green eyes. Poseidon's face was hard and cold like marble, polished and unreadable as those stormy orbs glared at the other.

"You can't betray your own blood Poseidon, no matter how much you want to..."

Silence reigned between them, short and full of apprehension, before it was broken.

"...I just can not seem to find it in my heart to forgive him..."

Poseidon looked up at his brother, the storm had long ago disappeared. _Why,_ he thought, _did he have to bring this up, unless..._

"...something is coming, something _dangerous._..."

It wasn't a question, no, it was a statement, and as Zeus looked into those sea-green eyes, he found himself unable to deny it. He remembered the days where they used to shine, reflecting currents of emotions that was like the sea, ever-changing and _mystifying_ , but those days had long since passed.

Akin to a pearl that had lost its luster, those orbs had lost their shine, now dulled and wary, _afraid._

"Yes...and we _need_ him, Poseidon—"

"NO!"

Poseidon glared at his brother, the storm building up again, threatening to break loose of its shackles. He stood up straighter and broadened his shoulders, picturing an image of utter defiance, but even he knew that deep down the monster called guilt is slowly drahging its claws, gnawing and biting. He could feel the hot breath of the monster and the cold of its scales, the shadows slowly creeping up his spine, filling him with trepidation.

"No...we have others. Do not bring him into this, I do not desire to see him—"

"—Poseidon..."

"No! He _killed_ her—"

"—he did no such thing! We all know that most of the accusations were false! Why are you so _blind?_!"

The sound of silence rang in the air as the tension built up once more. Testosterone hung in the air, _suffocating_ them.

 _No_ , Poseidon thought, _he killed her, his own **mother—**_

"—Open your eyes, Poseidon! Is it like him to kill the woman he cherished _dearly_?! The same woman who comforted him and _raised_ him for _twelve_ years while you were _nowhere_ to be found?!"

"...no..."

"Then why do you _refused_ to see?!"

Poseidon closed his eyes as he turned his head away. His form was trembling and his hands were into fists, nails gripping tightly into skin, drawing blood.

"...because I do not know what is the truth anymore..."

The thunder diminished along with the heavy rain that started the moment of the tension started to build, the _pitter-patter_ of the rain as droplets of water met the soil of the earth in a gentle kiss serving as a lullaby.

"Neither do I, the only thing I _can_ do is to do what _feels_ right to me."

Eyelids were lifted, revealing the tears that flowed down like waterfalls, cascading down tanned skin, like a river from those ocean pools that were shining brokenly in the dim lighting.

"Do you really think it is wise to bring him into mess?"

It was a question filled with hollowness, no hate nor curiosity. Just a plain question to fill in the silence.

"No, but he was already in this mess the moment you impregnated his mother. He was already in this mess the moment he was formed in his mother's womb, Poseidon. He was born for war, to be a _fighter._ "

Zeus looked at his brother's vulnerable form, fighting back the urge to comfort him like they used to back in the old days, before all the power getting into their heads. So he stood there, waiting for his brother to speak.

"He was born for great destiny, but instead he got _this._ You are cruel to drag him back into this mess, Zeus. He'll be far happier if you let him be as he is."

Zeus chuckled hollowly, _bitterly_ , the sound of joy never quite reaching his eyes.

"Name one hero who was happy, Poseidon..."

\--

To say that Clint was nervous would be an understatement. His nerves were on edge all day and somehow, he _knew_ that whatever it is that Fury wanted to tell them was the cause of it all.

Tension hung up high in the air, like the surface of a deep pond that's dragging him down, keeping him in the bottom, teasing him with the little taste of freedom as Fury's deep, dark eye gazed at each and every one of them, cold and _harsh._

Clint could see Bruce nervously tapping his fingers and fiddling with his glasses from the corner of his eyes, a clear sign of his nervousness. There was something in the air, a sense of _secrecy_ that had Clint uneasy, like Loki's aura.

 _Suffocating..._

He tensed as he could feel the cold, hard eyes of the director boring into him, as if _demanding_ his attention with that simple gaze.

"I hope you've gotten comfortable with Loki here, 'cause I ain't takin' shit from anyone."

Clint eased slightly at the sound of the director, the typical _got no shit for you_ aura around the director giving him a sense of familiarity.

"What can we do for you, sir?"

Fury turned his chocolate eye to look at sky-blue ones, which even all this time still contained a sense of _innocence_ to them, a hard feat for soldiers of war.

"JARVIS, initiate lockdown sequence."

' _Yes, sir.'_

Immediately, every window was closed, shrouding them in darkness. A few more clicks were heard, and then silence, _deafening_ silence.

' _Lockdown sequence active'_

Amidst the darkness, only a pair of poisonous green eyes was visible, thrumming with power, before the glow dimmed and a piece of the wall lifted up to reveal the glowing screen of SHIELD's data.

Tension rang high in the air, the deafening silence chaining him to the ground, _paralysing_ him. No one made a sound, not even Tony. For once, the billionaire had shut his mouth, the situation indicated extreme importance and emergency that the forming of the Avengers Initiate could never compare.

"A new member is here..."

\--

 **Wassup dudes, how was it? I've been getting some reviews saying that the story is quite confusing.**

 **Well, to me this story is like a puzzle, there is no instant answer, only bits and pieces. To see the whole thing you need to connect the pieces.**

 **To be honest, I've never really planned on revealing much info about Percy's past until chapter six, but oh well.**

 **I'm sorry there's no Percy in this one, but at least I gave you some info about his past, eh?**

 **Welp, it's past midnight here and I guess this is it. I'll c'ya soon guys, _au revoir!_**


	5. IV

_Opia_

 _(n)_

 _the ambiguous intensity of looking someone in the eye which can feel simultaneously invasive and vulnerable_

\--

It was like the sea, the suffocating silence than gave you the impression of calmness before the storm hits, and when it does, the cries of panic and outrage mixed with the roar of the sea, creating an even bigger monster to deal with.

Sea-green eyes watched how the scene in front of him unfurled. Like a flower blooming, one by one the petals curled outwards, exposing the secret inside, creating mass mayhem, _wreaking_ _havoc_.

 _Catastrophic_...

The screen flashed and the symbol of SHIELD appeared, the eagle showing its magnificent wings proudly, and dare he say it, _arrogantly_. It gave him a bitter taste of hate and pain pooling at the bottom of his stomach, threatening to break through the surface. He could feel it, swimming upwards, closer and closer, the dangerous waters churning, and he could see the black shadow drawing nearer and nearer.

 _No...not today..._

The screen flashed once more, opening up a file, a personal info, _his_ info. As if a cue was made, the roar of chaos around him silenced, the shouts dissipating to no more than quiet whispers.

"His name is Perseus Achilles Jackson. He is SHIELD's top most _guarded_ secret. And I think I might have just lost my mind in even telling you this."

The silence continued on after the director's voice, and it was grating his nerves. He could feel the questions lingering, so many yet unasked. He applied more pressure to the air, suffocating them, _challenging_ them.

 _Go on...speak..._

"Woah, woah, woah, wait a minute."

The aura dissipated slightly, now no more than a gentle tug rather than the charging rhino it was a few moments ago. He eased back again into his hiding, the darkness engulfing him, covering him, _protecting_ him.

"Yes, Stark?"

"Why is this guy the 'top most guarded secret'?! I mean, with all those tech you guys collected over the years, I thought that your 'top most guarded secret' would have been something like a weapon of mass destruction. Or— _fuck_ , the chemicals for starting the _zombie_ _apocalypse_! Not some random dude. I mean, his file doesn't even have _any_ photo of him!"

Multiple sighs sounded throughout the room, indicating that this was a natural occurence to all of them.

"Is that it, Stark?"

The annoyance and boredom in that voice was poorly concealed. The deep dark pool glared at Stark as the vein in his forehead danced.

"Well—"

"—I don't fucking care. Back to the point. Have you ever heard about SHIELD's assets?"

The question was fired like a challenge, daring any of them to answer. The unease was back, and it was gnawing at him, _tempting_ him to make it _worse_.

"Assets?"

The voice was deep and melodious, but had a certain edge to it, like a water in a pond, deceivingly _enchanting_.

"I did not know you had assets."

He turned to look at the owner of the voice, curiosity nagging him, wrestling his resolve to the ground and taking control of the situation. Sea-green eyes took it as much as they could, eerily similar to the object of interest.

Long black hair flowed down like a waterfall, almost invisible if it weren't because of the glow of the screen. Sharp jawline and nose, with deep poisonous eyes, striking a sense of anxiety deep within his being. The pallid skin shone ethereally in the dim lighting. He was beautiful, no doubt, but what got him on edge was the air around the man.

 _Suffocating_...

He had only encountered the same aura with himself and a few others, but none as strong as this one. It was like a personal ocean was around the man, drowning, suffocating, _entrancing_.

He tuned out the conversation to focus on the other man. He could smell it, the entrancing smell of magic, lingering, _seducing_ him.

 _Kneel_...

He could feel the roaring of waves beneath the calm facade, inviting him to take a dip benath the surface and stay there, just watching the gentle lull of the surface. A pang of sadness and longing hit him, their foul and bitter taste filling his senses.

 _...bow down_...

He was wild and free, a part of the ocean no matter how much he tried to deny it. The whispers just encouraged him more, bringing out his wild and destructive side. He could feel the anticipation burning inside, the flames rising higher and higher, licking the cage, stirring his demons.

... _foolish mortal_...

His mind skiddled into a halt, his whole body tensing and his demons stopped prowling. He recognized the demand, the aura, the _appearance_.

 _He's one of them..._

Hate filled his entire being with their bitter taste. His demons pounded against the barriers of his mind, scratching, gnawing, _demanding_ to be set free. He had dealt with gods before, had had too many memories wrapped tightly with pain and hate, had had too many _cracks_ on his glass ball. It was just too much, and the glass ball had finally broken.

Painful memories broke through the mental barrier he had created, screeching and nipping at his skin. His breath shallowed as he sunk deeper and deeper into the abyss, the pain surrounding him like a cocoon.

 _What have you done?!_

Dad...please...

... _you monster_...

...no...stop...

... _stay away from us..._

...please...

 _...kill him_.

And then the surface broke as the demons came rushing out.

\--

Clint should have trusted his guts as he was slowly regretting ever coming to the meeting. Sure, he had been slightly intrigued by the mention of a new member, but then, like a balloon, it deflated quickly.

"SHIELD's assets are things or people with great importance. They are something of great power and must be kept secret."

Fury turned around facing the screen, the light from the screen and his dark clothes and complexion helping him in becoming nothing more than a silhouette. He spoke with tone of finality, harsh and commanding.

"This man, should Loki's invasion had succeeded, would have been Phase Three— total _annihilation_. He wouldn't have spared any of the offending party, not eeven your _brother_ , Thor."

Fury turned around once more, his dark chocolate eye set in a stern gaze.

"To the outside world— due to a leak we once had, had them all believing that SHIELD's greatest asset is Asset 1— the Hulk. Yes, Banner here is our greatest asset, followed by Thor, Captain America, Iron Man, the Black Widow, and lastly Hawkeye. But—"

"—woah, woah, woah. Hold up! Why is Feather Face here the _last_ one? I mean, have you _seen_ him? This guy's a _beast_ when it came to shots, I mean—"

"— that's because I have _family_ , Stark. And family is a _weakness_ for SHIELD."

Clint turned his eyes to look at Stark, daring him to say anything, _challenging_ him.

"Continue, director..."

Clint turned his eyes back to Fury, the hot, smoldering gaze of the director softened a little bit, only to harden again immediately, leaving Clint wondering if it was just his imagination.

"As I was saying, to the outside world, SHIELD's greatest asset is Asset 1. Fortunately, during the leak we had been able to save the files containing our greatest asset."

There was a momentary pause in which Clint _swore_ was for dramatics. Tension hung up high in the air, the pressure caressing him, _teasing_ him, slowly chipping away his sanity.

"Men, meet Asset 0."

Then the waves came rushing in, powerful, chaining him to the bottom, keeping him there on his knees.

 _Kneel_...

Instantly a memory flooded his mind, one he remembered all too well, blinding him, blurring the lines between harsh, cold reality and blurry, surreal memory.

... _surrender_...

A flash of sea-green and a dash of bronze, dancing in a ballet of death, cutting down invisible enemies.

... _bow down_...

A cloak of shadows and a curtain of light, fighting for dominance, giving him only a small glimmer of pallid skin glowing in the moonlight, beautifully, ethereally, _untouchable_.

... _stop resisting..._

He could feel the same aura, the same energy licking at his skin, caressing it with _power_. He could feel the same air of danger floating around, frolicking like ravens, yet there was not a single tint of malice.

Then from the darkness, the same glowing eyes caught his attention, halting his every movement, as if it had frozen his soul.

 _Paralyzed_...

Like a book open for public, Clint felt exposed. As if beckoned by those orbs, his secrets cane rushing out. He saw his wife and their children, he saw his worst nightmare of being controlled like a mere _puppet_ — nothing more than a tool to the puppet master, he even saw the event back in _Budapest_.

 _Vulnerable_...

Then the pressure dissipated, slowly but surely, like the moon giving way for the sun, and when the moon had disappeared, he was finally able to release the breath he had not realised he'd been holding.

"... _you._..."

It took a while for Clint to figure out he had been the one that said that as all eyes focused on him like cameras. He could see the question behind his teammates' eyes.

 _You know him?_

"...you're the one that...I saw..that night..."

 _He had to be,_ Clint thought, _there's absolutely no way he is a different person._

"...and you're the one that ignored the warning..."

It was deep, like the bottom of the sea, yet as light as the water that flows in it, something Clint had never imagined it to be like.

The sea-green eyes turned towards the director, meeting Fury's eye unflinchingly. The aura flared once more, just a little bit, akin to a tickle from a feather, before it disappeared once more.

"...I'll take my leave now. Avengers...and _Loki_ , you got three questions. Ask them once I left this room. Understood? Make him feel at home, and _whatever_ you do, do _not_ piss him off. "

A nod later, Fury went out of his way and left the room. Silence hung once more in the air, none daring to speak, as if a monster was awaiting them, looking for them, _hunting_ them. It was aggravating, and Clint had never felt so thankful for Stark's interruption.

"So...welcome to the team. I am— of course, _the_ Tony Stark. Genius, billionaire, playboy, _and_ — don't forget, philanthropist."

He walked towards the shadowed figure and held out his hand, but the man— _no_ , Jackson was his name— just stared back at him, _unmoving_. It was grating at Tony's nerves, making him feel uneasy.

"Er...okay then. How about you tell us your age? We know of your name, but they never told us your age? How old are you? Thirty? Wait— _no,_ twenty-seven? No? Twenty five? C'mon man, tell us your age."

For a while the sea-like orbs just stared at him once more, answering with sounds of silence, before the same deep yet light voice spoke up the truth that caused an uproar along the group.

"...none of those. If it is that necessary for you to know, then I must answer..."

The beautiful orbs switched to look at each person inside the room, staring at them in the eye, _coldly._ Tony could feel a shiver crawling up his spine from just a mere gaze from the enigma in front of him.

"...I'm only nineteen..."

\--

 **I kinda feel like this chapter is not as good as the others, y'know, for some reason.**

 **And once again, if you hadn't made the connection of the conversation Poseidon had with Zeus in the last chapter, I hope this one clears it out for you.**

 **And seriously, I'm on the search for metaphors.**

 **So...this is well-passed my bedtime (it's midnight) and— _EW_ , my brother just farted.**

 **...gross...**

 **Well then, I guess I'll see ya guys soon.**

 ** _Au Revoir!_**


	6. V

_Monachopsis_

 _(n)_

 _the subtle but persistent feeling of being_

 _out of place_

\--

It had been startling, totally unexpected, an unperdictable turn of events, one which Thor felt queasy about. He felt as if someone just told him once more that his powers would be stripped down, completely rendering him as useful as a mere mortal man until he was found worthy to wield it again.

 _Unforeseen..._

"What?! Kid, you gotta be kidding me! You're not even _legal_! Come on, you can't be that young, right? _Right_?! C'mon man, tell me it's not true..."

 _Yes,_ Thor thought, _the Man of Iron is correct._ It might had been his wishful thinking that kept him from noticing the cold and _dead_ look in those eyes, one he had only encountered in warriors of war, _strong_ and _unrelenting_ like a mountain.

 _Unmovable..._

He didn't notice the minuscule perk of his brother's head, the curiosity bubbling inside the poison-like orbs, like a potion in a cauldron, getting higher and higher, bubbles rising, almost spilling over, _almost._

Yet as he turned to look at Loki, he found the same indifferent expression, the tinge of mocking in those eyes prominent as ever. He still remembered the days where they were nothing more than younglings, barely understanding anything, _oblivious_.

He remembered the sparkle and mischief in those eyes, the smallest quirks of the lips still a normal occurence. But it was a time long has passed, a time without war and bloodshed. A time without _power._

 _Once upon a time ago..._

He regretted the day he chose to be like his father, in pursue of power to be a _king._ He regretted the day the expectations of the society were accepeted ibto his mind, _destroying_ his childhood naivety and trust in his brother. He regretted not being there for his brother, too caught up in his 'princely' duties to had not seen the shadows creeping in, bit by bit, consuming his brother and _poisoning_ his mind. He regretted the day he had not noticed the cracks appearing, changing the man he called brother so much until he couldn't see the spark of innocent mischief anymore, his brother no more than another man wearing the same mask. He could still hear his brother's voice, empty and unfeeling.

 _Sentiments..._

He was drowning, delving deeper and deeper into the abyss, and strangely so, he had no _desire_ to swim up and break the surface, taking in a gulp of air, filling hin with relief. He was _sinking_ , nearer and nearer to the bottom, drenched in the painful feel of guilt, _haunted_ by the velvety voice dipped in _venom_.

 _...they will only get you killed in battle..._

He had chosen not to acknowledge this fact, had ran away like a coward at the very mere glance of it, had had been so _blind_ of it, his eyes completely covered in naivety.

This man in front of him— deadly and rigid like a blade, with words as smooth and sharp as knifes, kissing the skin coldly, tainting it with red— was not who he once knew. Gone was the lively sparkle of mischief in those eyes, the warm hands that would embrace him, the soothing sound of words dipped in velvet. Gone was the one he looked up to, the man that had comforted him in his time of need, that had given him advices— advices which he had ignored and thrown away like trash. Gone was his _brother_.

Thor drew in a shaky breath and tore his gaze away from Loki, only to shudder as he felt the intense glare from his brother, a sign that he had been caught.

"—people will only _believe_ what they _want_ to, Stark. And I, as much as you may deny it, have given you my answer. I couldn't care less if you decide to believe it or not."

The similar velvety tone struck a sense of longing inside his chest, yet there was a slight edge to it, one that made it different than his brother's.

He looked to the speaker, or at least _tried_ to. Shadows were covering the other man like curtains, draped and blocking the lights in the room. Amidst the dark, a single pair of luminescent green eyes shone brightly, unwaveringly, _mysteriously._

"...you have two questions left.."

The smoothness of the voice was viperous, _serpentine,_ meant to give a false sense of safety to his enemies, concealing the dangerous waters _lurking_ underneath. _Akin to venom dipped in honey,_ Thor noted dully, _a raging beast lurks under those who are the kindest._

A heavy silence fell upon them, like an anchor, _dragging_ them down, each one of them contemplating the best question as if it was an _escape_ route, a chance to _flee_ the sea of tension.

"You said you are only nineteen...how _old_ were you when SHIELD took you in?"

Another moment of silence passed as Thor could feel the stare turned towards the only female in the group— the _Widow._

"Well?"

It wasn't a question anymore, the hard tone wrapped around the seemingly innocent word indicating it was a serious matter, a command, a _demand_.

"... _seventeen_."

It was barely noticeable, no more than a whisper lost in the wind, a voice lost in the storm of silence— and Thor knew the only reason he heard the last word was because he was not human, no, he was a _god,_ and gods are not _mortals_ with _limited_ abilities.

"What?"

The questioning tone of the Russian hadn't hid the fact that she couldn't hear what the answer was, and as everyone else except him and his brother perked up, waiting for an answer— Thor knew they hadn't either.

"...I said I was _seventeen_.."

The heavy tone of seriousness in the voice made it clear that none of it was false, and as Thor could see from the corner of his eye, the same indifferent expression in Loki's face, he knew that the man, no, _child_ in front of them had spoken the truth.

 _What has the world done to you?_

\--

Perseus stared at the sea of chaotic denial in front of him, the disbelief in the air filling his every nerve, basking him in its tingly feeling, as if he was swimming through an ocean of feathers, _lightweight_ yet _rough_ at the same time.

He could see it, the event buried deep inside the dark corners of his mind resurfacing again, a feeling of dejá vu that he would like to forget.

He remembered the sound of voices around him, basking him, bathing him in their warmth and noisiness, yet there was the sound of silence lingering in the background. A constant _hum_ , one that had accompanied him for a long while.

He remembered laughing, singing the sound of joy that had never quite reached his eyes. A mask, one that he had worn for a long time, a disguise to hide the loneliness he felt inside, drifting aimlessly, _detached_ from the rest of the world.

They thought they knew him, the hero that everyone can rely on to save the day, to stop them from drowing, but they never realised he was drowning himself, but there was no one to save him, no one that could see past his mask, no one that _cared_ so much for him, no one that would accept the _real_ him.

 _I'm drowning...suffocating..._

He knew what Gaea had meant by drowning, as he already was the entire time. He knew what it had felt to suffocate, the air fleeing your lungs and leaving you all alone. He knew what it had felt to be _alone,_ truly. He knew that the real loneliness wasn't one when you are all alone in a room with no company, no, it was one when you are surrounded by people, people who prefer your _mask_ than the one behind it, the feeling of being _surrounded_ by people but no one _understanding_ you.

 _...with no one to pull me out..._

He still could feel the burning coldness of the river of fire in Tartarus, the same one he felt when the cracks appeared, gradually shattering the glass ball he had kept safe for so long. He could still feel the taste of _fear,_ burning his nerves, fracturing his mask, bit by bit giving away, leaving him exposed, naked, _vulnerable._

 _...someone...please...pull me out..._

\--

Loki had felt it, the gentle caress of magic, the _seidr_ curling around the man before him. It was dancing, _thrumming_ with energy, pounding like a giant battle ram, knocki g over him and demanding him to _kneel_ , and then it stopped, so suddenly, so _disappointingly_.

He knew that whoever it was in front of him had _secrets,_ a string that he was determined to pull out, to _unravel._ He could feel the faintest whisk of the entrancing smell a few seconds before it disappeared, evaporated as if it was sea-foam.

He had to admit he had been slightly surprised that someone so young could host such power, a _mortal_ nonetheless. And as the ocean of mayhem roared around him, he thought of a question, a _request_ , the last one, the _final_ one before the man in front of him would shut them off, refusing to answer more.

"Come out to the light...show me the face hidden in the shadows..."

It was unexpected, yet no one could deny they didn't feel the same. Mysterious, dangerous, a complete _enigma._ A puzzle, and all he had to do was to collect the the scattered pieces and put them back into the frame to see the full picture.

"... _very well..._ "

From the ocean of shadows, a pallid skin broke through the surface, its satin-like texture visible in the dim light. It was prominent, a white stain in the middle of deep black, akin to a bleach spilled in a dark attire, impossible to miss. And even then, only the bridge of the nose was completely visible, the others still dipped in the dimness of light. It was a show of trust— even if it was not completely, he respected that, yet his curiosity was still gnawing him, _demanding_ to be sated.

" _All_ ofyou.."

He was curious, intrigued, and _catious_ , as if whoever it was in front of him was an unknown beast, and he was carefully prodding it, inquisitively yet with the shadow of _distrust_ hanging behind him.

A momentary stillness filled the air, and he could just hear the buzzing, the _hum_ of muteness, the sound of _silence_. He could taste the pressure in the air, licking and caressing at his skin, yet it was not the same pressure he had felt earlier, no, it was one produced by the mortals around him.

He could feel the muteness chipping away what was left of his sanity, _begging_ him to take action and _reveal_ the enigma in front of him. _Patience,_ he told himself, _just a few moments longer._

The moments passed painstakingly, teasingly, and just when he couldn't hold it in anymore, the sea of obscuration parted, and out came the conundrum.

 _Sirenic..._

That was his first thought, one which he felt was the most fitting. The raven-black hair was darker than the veil of obscurity the man was shielding behind, making the death-like skin all the more contrasting. His eyes took in the sharp yet soft jawline, and then moved upward to the high cheekbones and the _amazing_ eyes, not quite blue and not quite green, swirling, clashing, _wave-like_ , fighting for _dominance_ yet in complete _harmony_.

 _...beautiful..._

His gaze locked and he found himself entranced by the raging waves he could see, could _feel,_ under the ice-like layer of those orbs, _calling_ out to him, making him want to _drown_ himself inside the ever-changing current.

 _...kneel._...

What?

 _...bow down..._

No...it can not be...

 _...surrender..._

...should not be...

 _kneel...kneel...kneel_ _KNEELKNEELKNEEL—_

And then, he broke the surface, and as the air rushed back into his lungs and the wave of bewitchment dispersed around him, _fading_ into the background— he realised something, one that should have not been possible.

... _seidr_.

And like the waves, the curiosity faded into nothingness as a new wave of barriers came rushing in, swirling all around him, deflecting the alluring power, a power he had never feared before until now. He knew what _seidr_ could do, how it could destroy your mind, sneaking in like a serpent, releasing the deadly venom and _destroys_ you, slowly but surely, every lie and every doubt, a _cyanide_.

He had seen it, had _used_ it, the magic rolling around in an ocean around him, tearing away his enemies, their fear and screams of pain fueling him, _satisfying_ him. He remembered how the currents lashed on like a whip, catching and entrapping, _forcing_ them to _obey_ his commands. He remembered the chaotic nature it posessed— unrestrainableunpredictable, _unconquerable._

 _What... **are** you?_

 _\--_

 **So...three POVs in one chapter...never thought I'd do this again...oh well.**

 **I'm so so sorry for the late update...and for the next two (give or take a few days) weeks where I won't be updating.**

 **One word.**

 **Finals**

 **And someone just asked me if this is a _slash_ story.**

 **Honestly, IDEK.**

 **Do you _want_ it to?**

 **I know some of you are asking why don't I just pair Perseus with another female.**

 **Thing is— no offense, I _can't_ write females.**

 **Again, no offense, I don't know how you'll feel about certain things, thus the lack of female role in this story.**

 **I'll _try_ to add more of it, I promise.**

 **Anywayz...please give a review and point out the typos I made, y'know..so I can fix them.**

 **Thank u so much for favoriting and following this story, and I guess I'll see you again soon.**

 ** _Au Revoir~_**


	7. VI

_Sehnsucht_

 _(n)_

 _an intense yearning for something far-off_

 _and indefinable_

\--

It was bittersweet, the interaction between one and the other, striking a sense of longing inside of Perseus. The sense of comfort and safety they gave to each other, some as obvious as a star in the dark, while others as concealed as the moon in a cold, foggy night. He didn't know why he had stayed for this long. Maybe it was the direct orders from the director himself, or maybe sense of comfort that fascinated him, entranced him, _reminded him._

Oh, Perseus could just smell the all too familliar smell of baked goods, could almost _taste_ them, could just _hear_ the ringing voices of joy. He never forgot her dark brown curls and soft smile, nor the _deep_ blue eyes— as deep as the ocean floor filled with warmth and understanding.

He missed her, truly. He regretted every single mistake he had made— mistakes that she took in a stride and a soft, _warm_ smile. She was beautiful, no doubt, and he loved her dearly.

 _Mom..._

The stinging pain of heart ache accompanied the foul yet sweet taste of his memories, memories he _cherished_ dearly. All he wanted was to stop pretending to be a hero, to just drop the mask and tell her that everything is _not_ okay, to just snuggle into her warm embrace and finally _break._

He was a _glass ball_ — a glass ball that had already _shattered_.

All he ever wanted was to make her happy, make her _proud_ , to be like all those heroes she told him about at night, amidst the chaos outside his door, safe and sound from the _vile_ being his mother was _forced_ to marry— all to keep him _safe._

 _...but even heroes need to break..._

And he had. His glass ball had _finally_ cracked under the pressure, like what happens to humans at the deepest part of the ocean, _crushed_ and _wrecked_ like a sunken ship.

His mother was the one thing that had always pulled him up, even if not completely, just _enough_ to break the surface and take in the oxygen he needed. She was the one that did her best to save him, the one that gave him the reprieve he needed before plunging back into the ice cold embrace of the ocean of shadows, suffocating him, engulfing him, _drowning_ him.

He's sinking, _deeper_ and _deeper_ , far away from the surface, from the _breath_ he needed, _desperately._

 _To the north, beyond the gods..._

He could feel the chilling athmosphere dancing in a ballad with the heat of battle. He remembered the fire way beyond the frost, the flashes of a burning house that soon switched to a block of wood. He could just taste the adrenaline that hung in the midst of war, the chitter chatter of bones and those hollow eyes— dull, blank, _empty_ of the life they had lost a long time ago.

 _Lies the legion's crown..._

He could hear the thunder in the distance as a flash of light struck the ground. He could hear the screams and screeches as the ground cracked and split. He remembered the heavy weight of panic and dread, the uncertainty, before he squeezed the staff in his hand, the golden eagle gleaming, ruby eyes as cold as the frost surrounding him yet filled with burning power, thrumming, pulsing, _beating._

 _Falling from ice..._

Another flash, and then he was falling, his footing lost within the thunder. Searing fire soon replaced by cold, _dark_ embrace of the sea, dragging him down, chaining him to the ocean floor, _imprisoning_ him.

 _The son of Neptune shall drown..._

The lack of air was suffocating, crushing his lungs and destroying his sense of safety, of _familiarity._ Itwas not the comforting embrace he had come to love, _no,_ it was numbing, bitter, _penetrating._ It was as if his father was not there, _never there_ for him.

 _...Alaska..._

All his life he had never believed he could drown, until he realised he had been drowning his whole life. He had been clawing, _dragging_ himself up out of his hole of depression, only to fall back and finally succumb to the deep, _arctic_ embrace of desolation, the same one as the waters isolating him at that time.

... _...the land beyond the gods..._

He had doubted the gods from the very beginning, had never understood why his mother always spoke of them in high spirits and an edge of fondness. His mother had told him great stories, how they helped heroes and those who are in need— how _encompassing_ they are.

 _If they are that_ _merciful,_ he had thought, _where are they when we needed them?_

When he found out his father was a god, he had been ready to unleash hell upon said man, powerful or not. He remembered clearly the aura of the sea surrounding him, confirming him that whoever it was in front of him was _definitely_ his father. He remembered the arrogant way he had walked and said how proud he was of him and how he loved him and his mother dearly.

 _If you loved me— had **cared** for me, then why didn't you help me?_

Perseus was sinking, he knew this. He was falling, down and down as if a weight was tied on his legs, dragging him deeper and deeper. He knew he couldn't escape, knew that he needed an anchor to tie himself up to the surface, but his anchor had already been snatched away, leaving him _alone._ Even then, his naivety of hope kept him from drowning, kept him swimming up in attempt to reach the surface that just seemed to get further and further the more he tried.

 _Crack!_

And soon more followed as the glass ball shattered and crumbled down to the ground, gone with the wind like _ashes._ He had no more hope, as if Pandora had just opened her pythos and let hope _fly away_.

He was lost, stuck in an endless maze, forever in a haze. Like Theseus had once been, only without Ariadne's string to guide his path, to lead him to _freedom._

Perseus was sinking, _drowning_ , deeper and deeper, further and further away from the surface, but he just didn't care, _no,_ not anymore.

\--

Fury stared, his gaze seemed to came out harshly even through a digital screen. His lone eye stared at the seven occupants of the room before moving to glare at the darkest corner of the room, seemingly at nothing yet something at the same time.

"I suppose you can't just sit like any other _normal_ person, but at least _try_ to."

A long intake of breath was heard, before— like a sheet lifted before the audience, the secret was revealed. Fury watched as the other stepped out of the shadows and stood where only the bridge of his nose and other certain places could be seen. It was not quite what he expected, but progress nonetheless.

"Sir?"

Fury's gaze focused in on the speaker, his dark brown eye sending shivers down Natasha's spine, forcing her to cover up the unwanted stimulus. _Act,_ she reminded herself, _conceal and pretend._

When she spoke, no traces of hesitance nor fear could be heard. Her voice as strong as her will, _iron-like._ Posture emanating confidence and face a smooth mask. The perfect image of a spy, the only thing betraying the facade she had created were her eyes. Her green orbs flittered with nervousness and anxiety, though she masked it well, and with the dim lighting of the room, it could be passed off as a mere trick of the light.

"What is the mission?"

Natasha fought back another shiver as the orb focused on her like a spotlight, nerve-wrecking as if was trying to light up the deepest darkest corner of her being and exposing her most concealed secrets.

"Nothing, for now..."

What?

"...but it is important to why I called you here today."

There was a pause, a gap that seemed too long. before he spoke again, voice full of a demand of secrecy.

"I truted you with the secret of Asset 0, now I'm trusting you with another one."

Another pause, and had Natasha not been so intimidated by him, she would have snorted at his flair for dramatics. The tense silence was agitating, teasing, _mocking_ , and she knew she was going to snap soon.

"What do you know about the Infinity Gems?"

\--

Soft brown eyes gazed at the chaos that rang loudly among him. He could see the determined masks already set in place, yet years of teaching allowed him to see the glimpse of fear under the facade they wore. At times like this, Chiron was reminded that these warriors are just mere _children_ — all no more than twenty, and at times like this he _wished_ he had never risen back from whichever Underworld he was in before.

It hurt him, to see each student going into war, betraying each other, _losing_ their _childhood_ in the heat of battle. It made his heart ache and throb, as if it was wheezing, showing his age.

A few moments had passed before he decided to relieve them of their tension by pounding his hoofs against the wooden floor below. The chaos subsided, even if only for a while.

Wary gazes shifted to focus at him, the spark of innocence and naivety gone from those eyes. _So dull and dead,_ he noted, _if only he was here._ Shifting his eyes to focus on one of the occupants, he greeted her.

"Clarisse..."

Dark, boar-like eyed shifted up to meet his gaze, the flames of _war_ burning brightly behind the murky layer of those orbs. Chiron fought back a shiver, for she looked so much like her father.

"...any signs of him?"

Her lips— before pulled into a straight line, started curving upwards into a sneer, her canines visible and her gaze mocking. Chiron knew she still disliked them, no, _despised_ them, and he couldn't blame her for that.

"Well, maybe if you _cared_ enough to help, _maybe_ we would've had one. Besides, why do you care all of a sudden? Weren't you the ones that _banished_ him a while ago, huh?! The ones that _stabbed_ him in the back?! What is wrong with you people?!"

"Clarisse...please..."

She turned towards the speaker, eyes ablaze and burning with passion, and Chiron could just see the hate aflame amidst the cold, chilling glare directed at them.

"No! Shut up! Don't you even call me ' _Clarisse'_ , _you_ were the cause of this mess! If you weren't such _cowards_ then he wouldn't have left!"

There was a silence permeating the air, one of guilt and tension, as if one wrong mistake would make the daughter of war snap and cause havoc amongst them.

"...he would have still been here, joking like the Seaweed Brain he is..."

Chiron wasn't sure whether it was the stabbing words that left such a deep gash in his heart, or the iconic nickname she used. Clarisse had quieted down after the last part, and now she looked defeated, as if she had failed a battle and brought shame to her father's name.

Tense silence reigned once more, a different contrast of the havoc before it, before Clarisse stood up, fastly and strongly so her chair went skittering across the floor, screeching and skittering to a halt when it was near the wall. When she spoke, neither the hate and vulnerableness was present, instead it was a monotonous beat with an edge of frustration.

"I can't do this anymore, I'm leaving. Excuse me, Chiron."

It was decided— as Chiron looked at Clarisse's back as she exited, that the one thing that hurt him more than seeing his students die, was the fact that he had _failed_ them. It lingered in his mouth, the taste of failure foul as ever.

 _What have we done?_

\--

 **So sorry for how out-of-schedule this is. I'm in the middle of finals and supposed to be studying, but I love you guys too much for that.**

 **Second thing, take this as am apology. My school decided that the finals would be prolonged for _another_ week.**

 **Yep, you heard me right. It's a three-weeks exam.**

 **Why?**

 **#FML**

 **The poll is still on, so make sure ya comment.**

 **Well, that's it people.**

 ** _Au Revoir_**


	8. VII

_Novaturient_

 _(a)_

 _a desire to alter your life_

\--

Rachel would have liked to say the visions and prophecies had stopped as the wars had been won, but alas, she never got her wish. Part of her knew, that as long as there is still a beat— even if it's only a _single_ beat inside her heart, these phantasms would never stop. _It's like watching a movie,_ she thought, _all you can do is to just stand there and watch as the scene unfolds, unable to do anything, helpless, powerless, **paralyzed.**_

Paint splashed across the room like raindrops, splattering across the walls like little stars amongst the white sky of her room, tiny yet _breathtaking_ at the same time. Cans were tipped over as brushes and pencils spilled out, some in pristine condition while others broken in half or in bits-and-pieces. Empty and filled canvasses were draped all over the ground, their colour tainted with others and their soft cotton cloth torn in places, the sheets curling inwards to the back.

It was chaotic, a picture of disorder, a _catastrophe._ Yet there was something mesmerizing about the image, a morbid sense of fascination and curiousity at the destruction, pulling, entrapping, _captivating._

But neither the picture of chaos nor the beauty of paint-droplets was the thing that caught her attention, to make her gasp and drop her breath, to _steal_ the air from her lungs. No, it was the single painting in the middle of the room, the only one that came out unscathed. The used-to-be pristine white walls now tainted with red paint and the calamity all around it providing the perfect background, one of a _twisted_ captivation, and as if being pulled under its spell, Rachel was _entranced._

She didn't need to turn around to see the red paint dripping down her wall like blood on a canvas, prominent, unmistakable, _unforgettable._ She still remembered the words that spilled and flowed like a river tumbling down a waterfall from her mind to her mouth. She could still feel the serpentine hold of the speaker residing deep inside her, curling around its slippery and _cunning_ body, dark green scales glistening in the light and slitted golden eyes full of wariness, like a _python_ ready to strike.

She didn't need to look, for she already knew those words by heart, as if it was an old friend, coming and greeting her as her mind flashed through different memories, digging them up from the most unreachable corners of her mind. At times like this, she wished she could just forget about it, to just fall into amnesia and welcome the blankness of her mind where her memory used to be. At times like this, she wished she couldn't her the words, _prophecies_ that was _slithered_ and _hissed_ inside her mind. And at times like this, she wished it wasn't about _him._

 _To the north of smoke and frost..._

Etched across the canvas, the white of snow clashed together with the gray of smoke, meeting and dancing in a swirl of colour in the middle of the canvas, kissing and fighting for dominance while still moving in harmony. Like day and night, fire and water won't be complete without the other.

 _Where the prince once cried in despair..._

She remembered those eyes, the _haunting_ look that drew her in all those years ago, _tempting_ her to just take a dip in the swirl of colour, to just _drown_ herself in their depths and never return. She could still see the sorrow behind those orbs, the unshed tears of a leader, one that was forced to stay strong through all the losses. She remembered the day when those orbs shone with mirth, days that was long ago, when she could still hear him _laugh._

 _The dead, the lost, the soul at cost..._

So many had died, the losses tainting even after the wars had been won, each death clouding those sea-green orbs. Like a pearl that had lost its luster with age, she could see him _losing_ himself, slowly but surely, until he came and looked at himself in the mirror, only to find a stranger looking back at him. It pained her, knowing that he had changed, but it pained her even more, knowing that those whom he called friend never _realising_ how lost he was.

 _Mend the bond broken beyond repair..._

She yearned to hear him laugh, to see the life back in him, but she knew deep down that her wish was in vain. He's gone, the boy she longed to see is not the same, but she still couldn't keep the hope from fluttering in her chest no matter how hard she tried.

In the canvas, she could see the cracks in the ice that towered over the flames, the spiderweb-like fractures climbing over the ice, shattering and breaking it as pieces fell to the fire licking at the bottom.

 _Ancient roots will assist your path..._

They say blood can't be betrayed, but Rachel found herself questioning it. She had seen how selfish _they_ could be, and she had wondered if she had been fighting at the wrong side all along. She still remembered being helpless and _useless_ as he sat there, ridiculed and torn, the fight lost within him, and she swore the silence was overwhelming, dragging her deeper and deeper, chaining her, _drowning her_.

 _Through the chains, death drowned in wrath..._

And at that moment, she understood why the gods feared him, so much that they _banished_ him from his roots, because there, at the center of the piece, those painfully familiar ocean-like eyes stared back at her, and she found herself looking at the unknown.

\--

Loki would like to say he wasn't all that surprised upon hearing it, but alas, surprised would be an understatement for his current situation. When he heard the question, he almost choked on air, _almost._ But then again, he wasn't called liesmith for nothing.

Keeping his composure of nonchalance was hard, especially with the strings of shadows flickering through his mind, drowning, suffocating, _encaging._ He could still hear the cold, chilly laugh echoing through dead and barren land, gripping at his nerves, _haunting_ him.

"Well?"

The tense and impatient tone of the director brought him out of his memories, and he found himself relieved, no matter how indifferent he looked on the outside. The question nagged within his mind, taunting him, _mocking_ him as if to say that the information he thought was secret was not a secret after all, and no matter how hard he tried to resist it, he found himself succumbing to its dark embrace.

"How did you acquire this information? As far as that I am aware of, _mortals_ should steer clear if godly business."

It was neither passive nor aggressive, the perfect balance right in between, filled with both curiousity and hesitance. His curiosity was nagging at the back of his mind and _slithered_ like a serpent, _seducing_ him.

It was silent for a moment, and he could feel the coals burning behind that single eye, suspicion tinted along with what he hoped what curiousity. At that moment, he found out why the man was the director, the leader, the _commander._

His gaze was harsh and unrelenting, as if _daring_ you to speak lies, and _forcing_ you to speak the truth. It was thrilling, the feeling of a challenge, the dread and being _caught_ in an act that he shouldn't have done. He could feel the mischief that he thought was long dead climb up, creeping along the edges of his mind, _reminding_ him of the old times when he couldn't care less about _power,_ a time where his only concern was to be found out during his tricks. It made a sense of nostalgia rise within him, like a flame, burning and filling him with a sense of warmth, before the reality snuck in, chilling and cold like ice, pouring over the fire and distinguishing it, making him feel _empty_ and _lost_.

"Well, us ' _mortals'_ are not that _dumb_ to not know about these things..."

Turning towards the one partially hidden in shadows, the man known as Fury called out, his voice hard yet with a tint of fondness and respect, something rare to be found within the director of SHIELD.

"Jackson! Would you be so kind to explain your _'situation'_?"

Instantly, all eyes turned and focused on the partially cloaked figure, their eyes silently demanding an explanation, and Perseus found himself being at the end of the pressure directed by the stares. Clearing his throat, Perseus began what was the start of yet another round of chaos.

"The Infinity Gems— or what others might call Infinity Stones, are gems with different colours that represent the different powers they had. Each of them contains one power, and each of them is different to the other. And...an example would be the Mind Stone inside the sceptre which Loki had used during the invasion of the Chitauri."

It was silent for a moment, before slowly, the chaos rose and another round of shouting ensued. The tenseful silence replaced by roaring chaos, their voices clashed against one another in attempt to show their outrage and drown the others out.

"So you _knew_ all along about the power the sceptre has?! And you didn't _warn_ me?! I was fucking _controlled_ like a _damn_ puppet! You _knew_ , but you didn't _care_ to tell your _agents_?!"

Perseus took a particular interest in that comment, one which was spoken by Clint Barton, the _Hawkeye._ He could feel the searing hot rage pulsing inside the agent, thrumming, demanding, _daring._

"Loki's right..."

All eyes swiveled towards him, the chaos stopping as the anger was covered in shock and curiosity, but he could still see it, the fire burning inside, _harsh_ and _demanding._

"What?"

The incredulousness was poorly shielded within Stark's voice, the disbelief seeping through like water dripping through the palms cupping it.

"...Loki's right. Mortals shouldn't have known about this."

It was silent, before said man answered the question, adding up to the tension, pushing him, demanding him, _commanding_ him. Loki's gaze was entrapping him, chaining him, _ruling_ him, but he was a free spirit, like a phantom, coming in and out as he pleased— and he'd be damned if someone even so much as to _think_ of it.

"...and how do you know of this?"

 _...from people like **you,**_ _one who lust after power, one who couldn't care less of the consequences..._

"The world is changing constantly, and new dangers appear every time, whether it is only potential or a mass-scale invasion like the one you brought almost a year ago..."

It was silent for a moment, before he spoke again, voice smooth yet sharp, daring them to say the opposite, _challenging_ them to prove him wrong.

"...we are only doing our best to minimize innocent casualties, even if it meant to sacrifice _ours._ "

 _And I'll be damned if more people **die** because of me, no, no more._

\--

 **Soooooo...I think it's safe to say I'm a liar, considering how I said I won't be able to update, but then I _did._**

 **Well, more for you, I guess.**

 **Thing is, I got an unsuspected holiday yesterday, so I wrote half of this chapter.**

 **Is the prophecy vague enough?**

 **The poll is still on, so be sure to give me your thoughts.**

 **And I think I'm going to use the Loki from the Marvel Universe, so you won't be confused.**

 **And the whole Magnus Chase thing doesn't exist.**

 **Again, so you won't be confused.**

 **Check out the last chapter, since I had updated it.**

 **Guess this is it people.**

 ** _Au Revoir_**


	9. VIII

_Sirimiri_

 _(n)_

 _a light rain;_

 _a fine drizzle_

\--

It was there, like a barrier, thick and solid, yet nonexistent, no more than a feeling in the back of her mind. Natasha sat there, observing quietly, careful not too draw attention to herself as vibrant green eyes took in the tense posture of the person that sat in front of her, near the back of the room. She took in the stretch of his face as he glared at the other whom still stood, obscured in shadows.

 _Enigma..._

That was what they were, a shadow even in the brightest light of day, distrust and danger rolled around them in waves, clashing, churning, _suffocating._

Natasha's right hand— which was atop her left, gripped it tighter, the slight pressure and pain as nails dug into her skin serving comfort, a reassurance as if to say that everything was going to be fine. It wasn't.

 _Overwhelming..._

She could feel it, the tension in the air, the aura multiplying, flooding the entire room, _drenching_ them in an invisible yet choking embrace. She could feel the air, rushing out of her lungs, fleeing and _leaving_ her as the shadows creeped at the edges of her vision, and she felt like floating, as if she was a feather, lightweight and _detached_.

And then, like a wave that crashed ashore, it _stopped_ , and then everything abruptly went back to normal. The shadows dissipated and she could faintly see her partner, Clint, holding his head in his hands, gaze downwards. Had she not been as busy trying to regain her composure, she would've seen the beads of sweat trailing down his face, little droplets of water, sliding down, succumbing to the force called gravity before dropping down and _kissing_ the ground in a splash.

Clint was shaking, he knew it, but right now he felt numb, the only thing he could _feel_ was the _hurricane_ around them, powerful, drenching, _flooding._ He felt it, heard it, _saw_ it. It was like a splash of white amongst the dark, dull, _murky_ background— the only thing he could _focus_ on. But then the hurricane _evaporated_ , disappearing like mist, the waves crashing against the rocks and splitting into tiny little droplets before _vanishing_ into mist.

He straightened up in his seat a d quickly built up his mask, his _barrier_ — a _fort_ that instead of keeping enemies out, it kept _in_ his emotions like a cork keeping the wine from flowing out. Each breath he took felt like a blessing, a _gift_ from the gods themselves— he _knew_ more of this suffocating feeling would come, randomly and unexpectedly, taking you by surprise, _forcing_ you to do what it wanted.

 _...kneel..._

A shiver ran down his spine and he tried his best to tune out the whispers, drawing him in, _ensnaring_ him into its trap. Looking at the two men near the shadows at the back of the room, he fixed his concentration on finding out the secret SHIELD had decided to tell him today, but even he found that their Asset 0 was much more of an enigma that the problem with the gems.

There was something about the agent that frayed at the edges of his nerves, lighting it up on fire like a _string_ to a candle, slowly burning away his sense of ease and calmness, teasing and _tempting_ at his sanity.

 _Even when the storm has passed, there's still rain..._

The silence was grating on his resolve, singing a shrill song yet quiet at the same time. _The sound of silence,_ Clint mused, _it teases you of the absence of_ _noise with one so unique._

"...are you done with your banter yet?"

The annoyance was visible, as was the twitch of a vein on Fury's forehead. His voice snapped Clint out of his thoughts, catching him in a net before he drowned once more in his sea of thoughts, reminding him of the director's own presence that Clint himself had _forgotten_ about. But even then, none answered, leaving silence in the background singing its melody.

"Good, then will you _finally_ tell them our problem, before I do it _myself."_

Clint eyed the man drenched in shadows, the smooth mask lighting a sense of agitation inside him. He knew that the agent is somehow powerful, as in _supernatural_ powerful. He could still hear it if he concentrated enough, the trickling and the soft _pitter-patter_ of what used to be a storm, a _hurricane._

"...it's inside me..."

Wait what?

"What did you just say? It's _inside_ you? _What_ exactly?"

Of course, Stark voiced his question, seeing as Stark— _no,_ Tony now, had always been the reckless one, the _d_ _o first, then 'oh shit, what did I do?!'_ kind of person. _Well either that,_ Clint thought, _or we're linked somehow..._

That thought promptly sent a shiver down Clint's spine.

"I told you, it's _inside_ me..."

Snapping himself out of his kind-of-frightening thought, Clint focused back on the issue at hand, no matter how _insane_ it seemed at the moment.

"...an Infinity Gem to be exact."

Swiveling his head back to look at Fury, Clint did his best to shoot the most incredulous look at the dieector, as if he was _praying_ for it all to be just a weird joke, but then again, the director _never_ jokes.

When his facial expression failed to deliver the message, he tried using his voice.

"You've _got_ to be kidd—"

"— _unfortunately_ , we're not."

 _There goes my sanity._ Clint thought. His shoulders seemed to be trying their best to drag him down as a new sense of dread filled his body, _clawing_ and _scratching_ as it tried to breach the walls he had built to contain his emotions, keeping them _prisoners_ until the dam will finally one day cracked and _shattered,_ but that day would _not_ be today, _no,_ not if he could help it.

"How?"

Dark chocolate eye met his, its gaze boring and drilling him into place, as if it knew all his secrets and saw through all his facades. It was _frightening,_ and Clint fought back an instinctive shiver. And then Fury's voice rang, rough and calloused like the man itself, strong and _stubborn_ as a _mountain._

"That, we don't know yet, however, we _do_ know two things."

Shifting a little bit so he could face the rest of them in the room, Fury's voice once again rang, hard and _cold_ , though Clint could just detect and edge of something, as if telling a _warning._

" _Someone_ is after these stones, someone of high power and _dangerous._ High chances are another one of those 'world domination' thing..."

 _Like we hadn't had enough..._

"...and somehow, one of these stones deemed Agent Jackson hereas its 'host'"

\--

Coal black eyes gazed across the buildings of New Rome, the vines and leaves shielding her from others. At moments like this, she felt content, as if the weight of being a praetor was lifted, even if _only_ for a second. She knew it was only an illusion, but it was an illusion she _never_ wanted to _see_ through.

Sunlight filtered through the dark leaves and glinted brightly against the gold of her helmet and the tip of her javelin, but no matter how much it shone it would _never_ cover the dark history they had, the battles it had seen, the cries and the deaths, the morbidly fascinating way the dark red liquid drops down and staining it.

 _Daughter of war..._

That was what she was, had been, and ever will be. A leader, a general, a soldier, a comrade, a friend, a _fighter._ She was an anchor for her people, a light that would guide them until her time ends and she found herself, walking along the Lethe for another life.

A soft crunch was heard, and she automatically reached out for her spear, posture quickly shifting from relaxed to guarded, muscles coiling and tensing, ready to spring at any moment— before a familiar voice halted her in her motion.

"Woah, easy!"

Her muscles relaxed and she shifted a bit, turning around to face the voice, one hand still on the javelin. As soon as she did, her black orbs found brown ones. The other's younger face and build portraying nothing but innocence, but she knew better. After all, he had fought alongside her for quite a while.

"Frank..."

"Reyna..."

"Is there something—"

"—ah! Yeah, well...you know..."

Frank shifted slightly for a few times, his discomfort and shyness reflected on the way he refused to look at her eyes directly, opting to look at the grass beneath them. Sometimes, she had wondered how such a great fighter could be so nervous and _shy_ when meeting others, but she guessed it was part of the endearment.

She let out a light chuckle and patted the spot next to her, motioning him to sit down. He seemed to get the hint, and a few seconds later he had sat down next to her, the grass crunching and dipping a littke against the extra pressure.

"Relax, Frank. Now, care to tell me what's been bothering you?"

For a moment, everything was silent. She could see the slight twinge of regret on Frank's face, how he kept biting his lower lip and fiddling with his fingers. She was no fool, she could see _clearly_ what he was thinking about. Sighing, she leaned backwards against the tree trunk and bit back her own guilt that was gnawing at her from the inside, gripping her heart in a _cold_ fist.

"He has forgiven you—"

"—how would you know?"

"Because it's not like him to _not_ forgive you..."

"...but I got him _banished,_ Reyna..."

Regret swelled up inside her, a raging sea wanting to let out its sorrow. At times like this, she _wished_ she could turn back time, to just _rewind_ everything back and _hope_ it'll be okay. When she spoke, she could hear the biting guilt seeping through, _ice-cold._

"...we _all_ did..."

She could still see the broken look in his eyes, how dull and _lifeless_ it was, how he seemed so _resigned_ to his fate. She remembered the _disgust_ she felt when she heard the crimes he was _accused_ of. She was so focused on _him,_ she forgot she had _once_ done the same.

"...Reyna, just...what if I had believed in him more? He would still be here...with us..."

She remembered voting for his banishment, how she sneered and _disowned_ him as her family— as part of Rome. She remembered the harsh and cruel words— words she wished she could take back. She still remembered how driven she was to _break_ him, to shatter him into _pieces_ until what was left were two lifeless, murky, _ocean_ - _like_ orbs.

"...I missed him, Reyna."

 _We all do..._

She could still see the day she _finally_ succeeded, the day he looked so _defeated_ , the light gone in him, as he drowned into the shadows that were creeping up, _swallowing_ him whole. But she hadn't cared back then, and now, she wished she could take back those dagger-like words and just hold him, telling him it would be okay. She could still hear those words until now, _haunting_ her.

 _...monster..._

Please...

 _...I can't believe you would do this..._

...stop it...

"...Reyna?"

Frank's soft, _vulnerable_ voice brought her back before she could sink into the _cold_ embrace of guilt. Tears burned behind her eyelids which she hadn't felt had closed, the warm feeling of the liquid a different contrast to the arctic _grip_ of regret. Blinking the sorrow away, she sat up straighter and let out a quiet hum, encouraging Frank to continue.

"...do you think he'll ever come back?"

Her gaze slid downwards and she once more closed her eyes, trying her best to keep the tears in and keep up the strong facade. It was quiet for a moment, yet at the same time it wasn't, as her thoughts once more ran wild. When she spoke, her voice was soft and quiet, a betrayal against her thought.

"...of course Frank, he will, he _has_ to..."

 _...I don't know Frank, I don't know..._

\--

 **So how was that?**

 **I think my female writing is improving, though there _are_ some parts that I can't write yet.**

 **Shoutout to fearless musical reader for volunteering in helping me write.**

 **Thanks Fearless.**

 **Sorry this would be the only update this week, I'll yry my best for a double next week!**

 **And I guess another shoutout for y'all:**

 **gpresti,**

 **Foreverfree94,**

 **chia.carranza,**

 **Monaca Towa,**

 **aRTsyisAwesome (I can't agree more XD),**

 **Anahita Singh,**

 **eyescold,**

 **chandrallc,**

 **GoldenRosesWhisper,**

 **Yinyang555,**

 **MagnusDerRote,**

 **03annnie,**

 **chimera629 (thanks for the reviews, I swear you commented at everything, don't worry, it'll all be answered in the story),**

 **Matt (thanks 4 reminding me),**

 **MelodyDaughterOfHecate,**

 **TheFloodofDr.Pepper (haha, love your name), SailingInTheMoonlight,**

 **aby14a,**

 **gvillafania,**

 **dogsrulz77 (who let the dogs out?),**

 **PJOFan4Life (don't forget until death too),**

 **lord of something (lol, love your username),**

 **pennstatebound,**

 **Widowmakers511 (No one can hide from my sight),**

 **abcdna (great name ;) ),**

 **The Sea's Avenger ( Percy? dat ü?),**

 **UltimateGoddess001,**

 **SofiaSapphire (thanks for the review),**

 **silverstar456,**

 **emgoalie,**

 **diegovarela (y'know, I have a friend called Diego...funny guy),**

 **shinichioiyx (Kudou? dat u?),**

 **MustWatchAnimeNOW ( lol, I have to agree),**

 **sleeping snow (DON'T EAT THE APPLE!),**

 **Son Of Thanatos 64,**

 **Djberneman (hmm...nice input),**

 **darkangel9872005,**

 **8Veronica,**

 **PozitivChik,**

 **The Eternal Forgotten (awesome name!),**

 **Loading name (omg, I'm totally _fawning_ over your username rn),**

 **rmnevo,**

 **TheBatFamily (Batman?),**

 **Aliase99,**

 **Kira (thank u),**

 **Science Geek8538,**

 **mad 4 the doctor,**

 **Kipperinca,**

 **CortNi301,**

 **oioiooi,**

 **Niwas,**

 **294442,**

 **Star2001,**

 **patty01,**

 **Ryorsaem,**

 **Imrys,**

 **50shadesofgreyson (it's spookay, #JenStyle),**

 **Eldritch Prince (*bows down* yer highness),**

 **prince of the seas (Is this Percy again? Or maybe Triton?),**

 **GoodScottish (I'll try mg best to make the POV change clearer, thanx),**

 **some fucking random guy (*looks at your username, dies of laughter*),**

 **Guardian'sDragonOfDeath,**

 **Nightwing'snight (Robin! dat u?),**

 **Rampakslue,**

 **FavFan (maybe...),**

 **JaqualineBetz,**

 **icegoddess52 (Let it go~ Khione~ Let it go~),**

 **chlotea,**

 **RosemaryBetz ( are u by any chance are related to Jaqualine up there?),**

 **Alewar,**

 **Riverrainlaufeyson,**

 **Der fuente Reiter,**

 **ShootingStar28,**

 **Wisegirl555 (thanks so much, but really, Annabeth...dat u?),**

 **ysizzle32 ,**

 **JessicaPF,**

 **Council of chaos (woah...an _entire_ council...),**

 **Dragonette716,**

 **Diddeysquat,**

 **HellBunnyX,**

 **warpigsofironman (...aliens got nothing on pigs invasion, I tell ya),**

 **Peertje,**

 **ScarletRaven13,**

 **Ajacks1996,**

 **spell checker 11111 (honestly the 1 is making me dizzy),**

 **sewing4fun12,**

 **Artemis Uzumaki - Nara,**

 **Phantom's Valkyrie,**

 **Smoldering Carnelian,**

 **KuraiTsukiYume,**

 **Ailed97,**

 **colanitre,**

 **poseidonschild721 (why are there so many Percy?),**

 **rosesterling100,**

 **Persassy1993 (** ** _sea_** **what I mean?),**

 **ChaoticMinds (love your name),**

 **sapphire-eyed cat,**

 **Slam'in Burst,**

 **Nai0310,**

 **Thegirlinthedarkcornerinclass (same),**

 **Miguelonti,**

 **CuriousChaos,**

 **cbelits,**

 **sandymittens,**

 **linn li (is it still to confusing?),**

 **RMNMRKS,**

 **10thphoenix,**

 **xXAzureFangXx (love your name),**

 **MooMantheCrazy (lol, your name is _certainly_ unique),**

 **cresa,**

 **RoseRune,**

 **A-Ravenclaw-Demigoddess,**

 **TheEmeraldBadger,**

 **LupaAnima13,**

 **Renegade Storm (love your name),**

 **Yuki468,**

 **Muncher50,**

 **justabitofANARCHY,**

 **Hi7807,**

 **Raine40,**

 **Bluesone,**

 **meech34,**

 **Akg36,**

 **deekshapo (for a second I thought it said 'deershampoo'. I was like "Whaa?"),**

 **CRUDEN,**

 **Thecamoflare,**

 **Ozpin98,**

 **Gold December ('cuz who needs a white christmas when u can have a gold one),**

 **Stacfisch,**

 **Perseus 314 ( _another_ Percy? Whaa?),**

 **perksofbeingajackson (lemme guess, free blue cookies?),**

 **People Will Stare (haha, love your username),**

 **KuroiSky,**

 **Shannon Rei D. Sumner,**

 **bookwormlover4ever,**

 **Zio Charmed,**

 **Codyderrow**

 **Whew, that took an _hour._**

 **Welp, it's way past my bedtime now, so...**

 ** _au Revoir!_**


	10. IX

_Eleutheromania_

 _(n)_

 _the intense desire for freedom_

\--

Perseus had known that his life was a game, a _gamble_ of life and death where every move has its consequences, yet even then, he could have _never_ been prepared for _this._ Distantly, he heard Agent Barton's voice filtered through incredulously.

"—what?!"

 _Exactly,_ _what are you even thinking, Stark?_

"I said...we're going to party! Come on, Legolas! It'll be fun! Listening through all that _world-domination_ thingy was _stressful._ So why don't we all have a drink— my treat, mind you— in a place not that far away from here, eh?"

The enthusiastic voice did nothing to eliminate Perseus' thoughts on it being a bad idea. There was something in the air, tugging at him gently and _pleading_ him not to go, as if it was a _warning._

 _But for what..._

Shortly after the meeting was dismissed, seeing as they all understood the importance, someone had approached him— _Banner,_ his mind supplied helpfully. After quite a while of what seemed like a subtle interrogation, Banner had relented and accepted that even for SHIELD, the stone inside him was unknown.

Sea-green eyes scanned the room, trying to figure out from which direction was the pressuring aura coming from and finally figure out what it was telling him. His instincts were tingling, the unknown stimulus _teasing_ him. He could just hear it, begging, _demanding_ for him to not go.

 _Don't..._

Why?

 _...she's there..._

...who?

 _... **they're**_ _there..._

...tell me...

 _...traitor—_

"—Jackson! I expect you to come as well! It'll be _fun!_ You looked stiff, maybe you should try to loosen up a little. I know just the perfe—"

"No, _Stark_."

The insistent chatter died down at the rejection, yet even then, Stark's expression remained ever so stubborn with a hint of indignancy. He could just see it, how Stark's own mask came up to cover up the shudder that ran through his body. Maybe somewhere deep inside of those sea-green orbs he felt remorse, but people _change_ , masks _drop_ , backs are _stabbed_ , and Perseus was not the same person no matter how he would like to pretend he was.

"...too much people..."

He knew Stark was no fool, the billionaire just liked to ignore some facts and bend that ignorance to his will. He couldn't help but to feel a small spark of envy deep within him, its serpentine body slithering, _cold_ and slippery as its tongue flicked out, _caressing_ the corners of his mind.

"...I don't see a problem with that."

And just like that, to cover his nervousness from the meetting, Stark put up a cover of ignorance. Sea-green eyes flicked up to meet brown ones, the sea visible and churning dangerously, sending a shiver down Stark's spine.

"Have you forgotten I am SHIELD's most _guarded_ secret? Or do you choose to cover your eyes from this fact? I am _not_ going to expose myself, not with the whole world knowing who you _are._ They would start wondering, and then my privacy would be destroyed."

Silence reigned the area with its cold hands, brushing and nipping at their skin. Amongst the frost lies an ocean, fast and churning, _trapped_ beneath the glassy layer of those sea-green orbs.

"Well..."

All eyes— besides of Perseus and the trickster god, flickered to look at the billionaire, a silent plead inside them, _begging_ Stark not to provoke the raging sea, a streak of fear inside them, a fear of _drowning._

"...I _could_ rent the bar and...it'll be just us..."

It came of more like a question rather than a statement, a result of the agitation that was gnawing on Stark's nerves. He could just feel it, nipping and _licking_ at his mind, _teasing_ him. The silence that once again reigned did nothing to help his nervousness as he waited for the Agent to give a clue, _any_ sign of approval.

A sharp yet subtle nod from the Agent sent a gasp of relief to flow out of his mouth. He didn't know what made him so _afraid_ of the Agent. _After all,_ he thought, _he's only human..._

 _...right?_

\--

Bruce held the glass tightly, his eyes reflected back on his nervousness as the smell of alcohol flooded his nose. The golden lights hanging around the place gave it a sense of lux and mystery, a _shadow_ behind the light, the _cold_ dark waters beneath the moonlit surface.

"Nervous?"

The feminine voice sent his body jolting as he turned his head to look at Natasha. The assassin had a rare smile stretched on her face, showing her pearly whites, and he thought she never looked so beautiful, _ethereal_ as she bathed iin the golden light.

A light blush coated his skin as he realised just what he had been thinking about. He knew that if she knew about this, he would be dead and _nobody_ would find him. He swallowed on air before averting his eyes, seemingly embarrassed at his own self.

"...yeah..."

It was lame, he knew it, but his uneasiness was hazing his mind, clogging all his thoughts and rendering him _speechless._ For awhile none of them uttered a singke word, until Bruce felt a wave crashed down upon them.

It was _suffocating_ , drenching them in pressure, pushing them down. There were only two person with that aura, and the trickster god was all the way across the other side of the room. Gasping and steadying himself, he then stood up and turned to look at the source, the _eye_ of the _storm_.

He could feel it, even if the Agent himself was quite far from where they stood, the clash of the waves, the _ballad_ of destruction. He could hear it, the roaring from his other self, the primal instincts _urging_ him to _flee._

"...you feel it too, huh?"

Snapping himself out from his daze, he focused his attention once more on the Russian. She looked at him with her green eyes, looking more like a meadow bathed in sunlight rather than an ocean, _wild_ and _unpredictable_ , the dark waters bathing in the _thunderstorm_ up above. It was too, very different from the poisonous, _serpentine_ , and dark orbs of the trickster god.

It was both mesmerizing and morbidly intriguing, how the same colour could have so many different shades, so many different _personalities_ that you would start questioning which one was real. It was like a mask, a _facade,_ like the one he wore most of the time.

"Bruce?"

"Ah...yeah, sorry, I was thinking. What was that again?"

Offering her an awkward and slightly crooked smike, he waited for her answer. His brown orbs met her green ones and for awhile no one spoke, until Natasha decided to finally answer. Her voice was quiet, _secretive,_ as if she was telling him a secret, _her_ secret, one so guarded and hidden from the rest of the world.

"...do you feel it? The roar of the _sea?_ The pressure, one that makes you feel as if you are drowning?"

".. _yes..."_

\--

Perseus stood there, the shadows being the perfect cover, shielding him from the others while still being able to _see_ them. Music blasted loudly through the night, yet even then, he could still _hear_ it.

 _...run.._.

He was curious, as to why his instincts were telling him to flee. That had been the main reason as to why he had accepted Stark's offer— _curiousity._ It had been the same curiousity that drove him into finding out about his father, to finding his heritage and then _shaping_ him into a warrior, a _killing_ machine, and _arc of destruction._

 _...into chaos.._.

He knew something was coming, something that was neither good nor bad, a _line_ between, the _grey_ area. It teased him with the gentle touches of an unsolved mystery, like a puzzle with only _one_ missing piece.

Eventually, the teasing finally snapped his resolve and he decided that if it wasn't coming to him, he might as well _run_ into him, even if it meant doing so _blindly_ , a thin veil of the unknown wrapped over his eyes, obscuring his vision, plunging him into the _darkness_ without a single light.

Then again, that was what he had been doing all along. Those quests and battles, he could still remember the pain and loss of trudging in unaware of the monster that lies inside. And the prophecies, they never tell you _anything_ straightforwardly, always in riddles and painted in secrets.

 _A half-blood of the eldest gods..._

That was who he was, _what_ he was, a halfling, a demigod, a _fighter._ Because even inside the barriers of his walls, there was no _safety_ at all. He has been fighting all along, when his abusive stepfather came, at school, as demigods, as a leader, and now as a _god._

 _...shall reach sixteen against all odds..._

Against all odds indeed, because no matter how many times had he stepped in blindly, quests after quests, _prophecies_ after _prophecies—_ he just kept on living, on fighting, even when he has thought ' _this is it'._ _...and see the world in endless sleep..._ How many had his comrades fallen in battle? How many lives has ended by the cold kiss of blades? And the ground coated in dark blood, how it glittered in the light as they laid there, pale and unmoving, death like as their eyes closed in an eternal dream, a dream which they would never wake up from to see their beloved ones drowning in a nightmare.

 _...the hero's soul, cursed blade shall reap..._ And it did, it may had been Luke— oh, how he would like to see those blue orbs once more, alight in joy and childish mischief— but he knew that prophecies has double meanings. It was his soul too, that had been reaped, year later as _they_ decided to preserve him for their _selfish_ needs, and after that, their dagger-like words cur through him, _shattering_ him once and for all with the pieces scattered amongst the wind like dust— no, _ashes,_ his ashes from the pyre that would never be built.

 _...a single choice shall end his days..._ He chose to fight, to attack with all his might rather than surrendering and succumbing to the cold yet comforting embrace of death. He chose _them,_ and they turned their backs on him when he needed them, yet even then, he took it all in a stride, because he couldn't deny the fact that he's _changed,_ an _unknown_ — no, _the_ unknown.

 _...Olympus to preserve or raze..._ How he wished he saw them burn now, with him tearing down the bricks, the storm rolling around like waves, dangerous, powerful, _destructive._

And he'd be there, a calm amongst chaos, the center of the destruction, _the eye of the storm._

\--

 **Nothing much to say, I'm afraid.**

 **Well, review please.**

 **And give me a word, any word for the next chapter.**

 **I'll pick a few to actually use.**

 **Really.**

 **Well I'll be getting my report from school tomorrow, well actually today seeing as this is 2 AM where I am currently.**

 **#I'mSoDead**

 **#PrayForMeh?**

 **Well, this is it dudes.**

 ** _au Revoir!_**


	11. X

_Jasper_

 _(adj)_

 _a blackish green_

\--

Rachel knew something was wrong when she saw him. There just something in those murky orbs that sent a shiver down her spine, like a _cold_ finger, tracing down her back, lower and lower, colder and colder until it reached the end of her tailbone, _pressuring_ yet nothing more than a _feather-light_ touch.

"Why are you here..."

It was not a question, _no,_ it was a _command,_ demanding to be answered. Inevitably, a _keta_ , a long-distant memory washed over her mind. She remembered, how those eyes once _sparkled_ like an ocean bathed in moonlight, how they sparkled even when the rest are just murky waters. But now, it was nothing more than an image, a _projection_ of something that had long gone.

"To find you..."

And she _did—_ she _found_ him, yet now, she's not so sure anymore, as if finding an nearly identical piece, _similar_ yet _different_. It was like a piece of old clothing, one that you have not worn in a long time, and when you finally did, you realised that you've grown up, you've _changed— things_ have changed and it just doesn't fit anymore.

"...why?"

His voice was harsh and cold, like an _iceberg_ , floating in the middle of the ocean, seemingly small yet it was also a warning, for below the surface lies a more dangerous monster, tricking, drowning, _sinking_.

 _...and then the wave comes over..._

"...they called for you..."

 _...and like the Titanic, down we go..._

"...who?"

His voice was quiet yet it spoke loudly, _penetrating_ through the cold and silent air of the night. For awhile, she wasn't sure what to say, what to _do._ She could feel it, the tension in the air, like a snake, its body coiled back, ready to snap and break the silence.

"...I don't know."

And that was the truth, whoever called for him were an enigma, a mystery— _anonymous_ beings of great power, same like the person in front of her, a person whom she once knew, or _thought_ she did.

 _S_ _ometimes..._

A sense of nostalgia washed over her like a wave, and she was surfing on the surface, _close_ to the ocean of memories, but still untouchable by the _painful_ memories of her past. She remembered— although not very clearly, a quote someone once said to her.

 _...it's not the person who changed..._

"...it's the mask that drops."

Her voice was no more than a breathy whisper, yet it cut through the air like a dagger through flesh, quick and flitting, yet deep and meaningful.

He looked at her, his raging storm focused, a hurricane beneath a thin layer of ice. At this moment, she wondered if it was true, that the man she knew, _they_ knew once even existed, or if it's just a facade— a _mask_ set in stone, smooth and unrelenting.

"You _lied—"_

"— _so_?"

His voice cut hers like a knife dipped in venom, burning, aching, _blinding._ Like a flame, it was painful, and just like lava, the dam behind her eyes broke and the hot liquid came flowing out. The droplets poured harshly, forming a river from her eyes, down the curve of her cheeks, and finally it slipped past her jawline like a waterfall, dropping down, _kissing_ the skin beneath.

"...Percy—"

"—It's Perseus, Dare. Nothing more, nothing less..."

"But Perc—"

"— _seus_...it's Perseus. Like you said, we're strangers, Dare, _strangers._ You never really knew me, the one you knew once was my _mask_ , a mask that I'm _never_ wearing again..."

A tenseful atmosphere descended on them, filling her with _awkwardness_ and unease. None of them dared to break the silence, to _shatter_ it into tiny fragments, to blow it away in the wind like _dust,_ small and _meaningless_.

"...what happened?"

"What?"

Shifting slightly, she spoke once more. Her voice was soft yet _pressuring,_ like a hand touching your shoulder, _pressing_ and demanding, rough yet comforting at the same time. She knew it, deep down in her consciousness, where her thoughts and demons mingle, that it wasn't just the mask that shattered— _no,_ something else happened, something that _finally_ cracked something deep within him, like a glass on a glass tank— once it breaks, the flowing current of hope inside rushed out, leaving _nothing_ but emptiness behind in a _hollow_ shell.

"...something happened to you, what was it?"

A few moments had passed, before he let out a chuckle, hollow and dead, mirthless, tasteless, _meaningless._ It made her wonder just what had happened, so much until it made the man she once knew a stranger, an _anonymous_.

"I guess..."

When he spoke, she could still hear the hollowness, it's like a bell, _deep_ and meaningful yet there was _nothing_ deep inside.

"...my anchor sunk..."

She didn't know what he meant, but what she did know was the fact that he was _drowning,_ and she can't do _anything_ to pull him out. She felt useless, yet she knew that if she tried to help him, she'll _drown_ too, lost within the _suffocating_ waves of pain and nostalgia. After all, how could you help others if you couldn't help yourself— couldn't _forgive_ yourself.

 _...they're calling for him..._

Eventually, Rachel straightened her posture and hardened her resolve. She slowly met his ocean-like orbs with her own striking green, the steps she took to get closer barely processed by her as if she was to _entrapped_ inside those stormy clouds.

Her hand was inside the pocket of her jeans, gripping the small piece of parchment she had prepared earlier. Slipping the small, white square inside one of his hands, she leaned in close and whispered in his ears.

"...find them."

\--

Perseus stared at the redhead's back as she retreated into the swarm of people outside of the dark and damp alley he had pulled her into. The nagging feeling at the edge of his consciousness had driven him itching to know the answer, it filled his mind with a haze, and he could feel his muscles coiling. He still remembered, the _voices_ that led into this

 _Out.._

And so he did, he stepped outside from the bar into the hustle and bustle of the streets, the endless chitter and chatter drowning out the voices inside his mind, allowing him a small breath of relief. He missed this, really, where he could just _forget_ , even if only for awhile. And then he found _her,_ or rather, _she_ bumped into him.

Her _wild_ red mane accompanied her bright green eyes and the blue plastic brush he remembered all-too-well. He suppressed a wince as he remembered what it had done to the Titan lord.

"—rcy?"

Snapping himself out of his momentary haze of morbid fascination and horror, he grabbed her arm roughly and dragged her into the nearest abandoned alley he could find. None of the pedestrians paid mind to the darkly dressed male and the redhead with paint-splattered jeans.

Now, looking at the crumpled piece of paper in his hand, he felt a myriad of emotions, much like the waves of the sea he knew resides within him. He felt the burning hot flame of _anger_ , anger at how unfair his life is, how they _dared_ to drag him back to a life he had left behind when he had finally picked up most of the pieces of himself— _pieces_ they had scattered themselves. Amidst the searing fire, the cold embrace of dread was gnawing— a noticeable contrast. It nipped at his sanity and teased his resolve with gentle yet rough caresses.

 _Find them..._

Who?

He knew it, from the very beginning when the gem had decided to use him as a host. He knew it, when he had been taken under the wing of a one-eyed man. He knew it, when he stood before the thrones of the gods, the mocking and disgusted stares of those whom he once dared to call friends, and then the searing pain came as the shadows creeped at the edges of his vision, slowly but _surely_ turning his entire world grayscale.

 _Eye of the storm..._

That was who he was, a center to all chaos and destruction, to all _pain_ and suffering. Sometimes he wondered, if somewhere beyond the storm, a safe haven lies, a place where he could shelter in and hide from the rest of the world, just like he did when he was little, hiding from one of his monsters outside his bedroom door, one his mother was _forced_ to marry.

 _But peace is an illusion..._

Just how much suffering should he take before he breaks? How many wars should he won before he's free— _free_ of the burden weighed upon his shoulders since he was in his mother's womb? He was tired _— sick_ of it, of all the games the world played, games where he is nothing but a mere pawn— little, expendable, _worthless._ Nothing but a tool to tip the scale onto _their_ favor.

 _...and death is only the beginning._

To this day, he still saw her, her olive skin and dark hair, looking much like a certain someone he knew. He remembered, the way she protected her little brother, how she looked at him lovingly. He could still see it, _hear_ it, her painful scream as she sacrificed herself— the first blood of the war.

 _...and the beginning of many more to fall._

Perseus clenched his fist tightly, his nails digging in into his skin until it left a deep imprint, the crescent shapes soon dropping tears of gold. It slid down, through his fingers, and finally met the concrete below in a wet _kiss_ as it painted the gray cement _golden_.

 _No, not now...I need to focus..._

Looking back at the crumpled piece of paper in his hand, he couldn't help but wonder how even when he was not part of that world anymore, _it_ still finds him.

Raising his other hand up to the hidden contraption on his ear, he could feel the cold yet warm caress of the ichor, sliding down, staining his arm in a straight line, before dropping down from his elbows.

' _Fury...'_

His voice was breathy, almost lost in the cold wind of the city, yet the man on the other side of the intercom still managed to hear him.

' _Noir...'_

The deep and rough sound of the director's voice sent a surge of relief through Perseus body. It brought him comfort, to know that the person who had taken him in cared for him.

' _...I need you to assemble the team for a meeting...'_

 _'...it's **them** , isn't it...'_

It was silent for a moment, before the director spoke again. Perseus could just imagine, how the man tensed as he received the info, his one hand still stuck on the intercom while the other reaching out for his hidden gun. Perseus _knew_ it, how the cold touch of the metal _comforted_ the one-eyed man.

' _...what was it?'_

 _'...the info we need—'_

 _'— **what?!** '_

On the other side of the line, Fury couldn't help but to feel worried over his charge. He knew, how the young man seemed to attract trouble and wreak havoc everywhere he goes. As he waited, the cold touch of the metal on his other hand calmed his nerves. It was like a gentle reassurance to his coiled muscles, calming the cry for blood he knew he harboured deep inside.

' _Let's just say...'_

When the agent spoke, Fury could just imagine the slight smirk adorning his young face, how those _thunderous_ storm clouds trapped inside those orbs stared at their surroundings— _awaiting_ for danger, and how his pale skin _contrasting_ against his dark mane and clothes as he hid in the shadows.

' _...we're going on a quest.'_

\--

 **So dudes, how was it?**

 **They finally met.**

 **Can you crack the prophecy?**

 **BTW, when I told you to give me some words...**

 **...I meant _normal_ words.**

 **(e.g: mirror, road, apple, etc)**

 **Just another info, I may not be able to update much in Christmas.**

 **Family stuff...**

 **...dammit**

 **Once again, I thank fearless musical reader for helping me write Rachel here.**

 **Oh and I fixed the wrong spelling already in the last chapter.**

 **So**.. **give me a word will ya? I need some ideas.**

 **Guess I'll see you dudes later.**

 ** _Au Revoir~_**


	12. Christmas One-shot

_Snow..._

 _...he hadn't seen it in a while..._

 _...how peculiar..._

 _...cold..._

 _...yet beautiful..._

\--

 _White_...

He could see it, the high-tops of the evergreen. The thick and study branches, dipped in a fluffy green blanket. Nowadays, those soft blankets were covered with an another layer, one softer and more fragile, almost like a porcelain doll, yet it was not.

It's been a long time— _too long_ , but even then, he never forgot how it shone, so white and magical— _unreal._ It was almost as if it were magic, but it couldn't be. He would've had sensed it by now.

He was home, he knew it, where he belongs. Some might say he was cold, bitter, with heart sculpted or of ice— ice from the deepest and most dangerous of _Jotunheim_.

There were times, times when he would think it's true, how inhumane and a monster he is, with a frozen heart and equally cold hands— no warmth, no mercy, just a cold-blooded _murderer._

 _Liesmith..._

Maybe he was cold-blooded, like the snake he was known to be, sneaky, slippery, _venomous._ He knew, how the poison of hate had creeped into his heart, tainting it, painting it black, yet he couldn't stop it.

 _He could still hear it, the jeers, the mockery, the disappointed looks..._

He believed in magic, how it could change things for the better, but that was long ago, in a time trapped— _lost_ in memories. But even now and then, he could feel the sense of nostalgia.

 _Monster..._

He could hear it, the pained screams of the people he had cut down, had _murdered_ using the very same _magic_ he once had sworn to help others. It rang in his ear like a bell, deep and loud, and it played over and over again, giving him no chance to recollect his sanity before it struck again, _ruthless_ and unforgiving, much like he was in a battlefield.

 _Like a broken record..._

How he wished it would stop, even for only a moment. Sometimes he wondered, if it really was worth it, to keep living, to keep _fighting._ He was tired, the years piled on top of his shoulders like bricks, weighing him down, like the emotionless charade he had to put up every time.

 _Conceal..._

Is it really worth the pain, to keep living a _lie?_

 _...don't feel..._

Sometimes he wondered, if it was easier to just fall off, down the cliff and into Ginnungagap— into the _void._ How just one tiny leap and it'll all be over, except he knew, he knew how it would never work, how a _monster_ lives in there, oh, he knew, he tried, and he found _him._ But maybe, just maybe, he'll be fortunate enough to just _die._

 _...don't let them know..._

A pair of green eyes entered his mind, and he found himself thinking that maybe, just _maybe_ , living wasn't so bad after all. Just like the cold, it was harsh and merciless, yet just as _soft_ and gentle.

 _Christmas..._

That was what the mortals had called it. He remembered, a time buried in the back of his mind, hidden among the ruins of his childhood memories.

He had visited Midgard back then, cloaked in the illusion of a ten-year old.

He remembered, the old and weathered buildings, crippled with age, and how warm and filled with memories they were, yet even then, he could hear a single, distant, _broken_ cry.

 _Those tears..._

Curiousity had spiked in him, like a single burst of a firework, simple yet big enough to command his entire being to look for it. Not once did he ever regretted it.

 _...how they shone like crystals._

In the back of a building, he found a boy, younger than his own illusion had made him be. It bothered him, how someone so young could carry so much sorrow. Then the boy looked up, and he found himself lost in the raging ocean trapped behind those orbs.

"Why are you crying?"

The sobs stopped as the raven-haired boy with the tears dropping down his pinkish cheeks tried to calm himself down. It was quite a while before the little child spoke, sounding as broken as he did on the outside.

"...mommy..."

He had just barely managed to hear the last part of the sentence.

"What was that? I didn't quite understand it..."

The little child raised up his hand and wiped the pearl-like tears of his cheeks, the quivering lips turning into a little yet still sorrowful pout.

"I said, I don't have any presents to give to mommy..."

Ah, so that was the problem. The little boy looked up at him through his lashes, the ocean-like eyes looking just a tiny bit hopeful, but it was still fragile, like the snow globes he had seen earlier.

"...help me?"

He wasn't quite sure why, but he did anyways. Maybe it was that tiny spark of hope, the little amber he couldn't quite bring himself to crush down, or maybe it was the image of those tear-stricken cheeks. He never did found out, even until now.

"Okay..."

And then it began, the small yet meaningful show of his powers, how the cold and crisp air shimmered and swirled as thin blue ribbons joined in the ballad of ice and snow. That's when he heard it, the tiny laugh, ringing like bells, not the big and loud ones like his nightmares consisted of, but small ones, like the ones you find on wind chimes, not as loud, but still, it cut in through his demons, quiet yet loud enough to cover up the sounds of his monsters.

"Blue...I like blue..."

Smiling fondly, he looked at the sky, how a _simple_ spell he conjured could bring up such joy in the other.

"Yeah...I guess I do too..."

It wasn't long before the thin strips and swirls formed something, they merged together and crafted a delicate, simple, crystal rose. He took it and soon gave it to the other boy, marveling how those eyes lit up so quickly, the storm gone and replaced by a gentle tide.

"...thank you..."

It was so soft he barely managed to hear it, but he did, and he swore his frozen heart just melted a little, the ice burning a bright amber colour in the inside.

"It was my pleasure..."

It was silent before a moment, before the small child spoke, his tone hopeful and, dare he say it, _afraid._ He would've liked to see those _amazing_ eyes once more, but the child refused to meet his eyes, opting to look at the snow-covered ground.

"...are you going to leave?"

What?

"...you're going to leave, just like the others did..."

He didn't knew what possessed him to answer it, but what he did know for sure was that he didn't like the sad look he knew was painted on that face.

"No, I will not leave you, I give you my word."

"Really?"

The child turned to look at him, the sea-green orbs wide and a little unbelieving. It warmed his being, as if a candle was just lit, all because of this little child.

"Really."

He never did keep his promise, but that didn't mean he forgot about the boy, no, those ocean-like eyes haunted his mind for a long while.

The years passed on, with every single one plunging him deeper and deeper into the _abyss_ of insanity. The hateful glares didn't stop, so did the snide comments thrown behind his back— behind those _smiles._

Yet even when he was drowning, he never forgot about the little child, how he would be waiting for him, cold and alone, wanting for the stranger he just met only once before to come and play with him.

 _I'm sorry..._

It was years later when he decided to look for the child, the same one whose eyes and laugh haunted him. But alas, he never did find him, because when he did reach the same building, he found out, that a few months back, the boy had disappeared, never to be heard of again.

 _...forgive me._

The boy's neighbor had told him about his mother's and stepfather's death, and how he should stop looking because the one he had been searching for might as well be dead by now.

He never did.

But soon, a few months later, he decided that maybe, just _maybe_ , he would never hear that laugh or see those _beautiful_ orbs again, and thus began the invasion.

Now, as he looked at the snow, only a single pair of sea-green orbs entered his mind. Even if only once, he never had regretted meeting the raven-haired child.

 _Maybe..._

As age passed on, he couldn't bring himself to just forget those _enchanting_ orbs, the dark yet beautiful mane, and the _bewitching_ laugh. He would still look for the boy, even if he was now nothing more than a mere _memory_ , dusty and old, yet filled with memories.

 _...I am not that bad after all..._

And that, Loki knew, that he was like the cold he was made of, dangerous and powerful, yet just as gentle and harmless— you just have to know where to look.

And it was only because of those ocean-like eyes.


	13. XI

_Resfeber_

 _(n)_

 _the tangled feeling of fear and excitement before a journey begins_

\--

Tony was dumbstruck, completely and utterly _speechless_ , something that had become a rarity with him. At times like this, he wondered why he had backed away when the chance of leaving this all behind to go start a new, _normal_ life had arrived.

He admit he was tempted, _so_ tempted he often thought about removing the arc-reactor imbedded deep within his chest, but then he'll look at his teammates, how crazy and _messed-up_ they all are, each with their own flaws and mistakes, and he soon found out, that maybe, just _maybe_ , this is where he belongs, right in the heart of his own _fucked-up_ family.

But _still_ , this was preposterous.

Vaguely, he could hear the commotion going on all around him, how they clashed at each other, whether it was verbal or not, like a roaring wave from the inside of a cabin, _loud_ yet distant at the same time.

And then like the eye of the _hurricane_ , a pair of eyes glowed dimly, each one of them projecting a battle of dominance, a clash of colours so magnificent it was _surreal_. Tony had to admit, he hadn't known such orbs existed until he met the agent, and even then, he still couldn't stop himself from staring into those green and blue pools.

Tony knew it was _rude_ to stare, especially when said agent turned to look at him, the same orbs that he had just been watching pinning him to his seat, keeping him there as a hostage with invisible chains. Faintly, he could hear Fury's voice, _roaring_ like a sudden plume of fire in the middle of a commotion, silencing the chaos around them, yet even then, it was like watching the event through a murky layer of glass, noticeable, but _unclear_.

"...Tony?"

Snapping himself out of his daze, he turned to the source of the voice, and almost instantly, soft, brown eyes met his. It was to be expected, for a doctor to care for those in his immediate surroundings, but _yet_ , Tony's heart still warmed at the worry and concern that pooled inside those eyes.

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah, umm...I'm fine."

 _No, I'm not..._

"...are you sure?"

"Aww...you do care, _Brucie boy..."_

... _save me..._

"Okay, then..."

... _please_.

A loud bang rang through the air, cutting the conversation and startling Tony at the same time, the sound _sharp_ and clear, as if it was a brand new knife, easily slicing through butter with _confidence_.

Tony looked around, startled brown eyes searching for the source, flicking over everything until it landed on cold, _harsh_ , dark ones. He instinctively fought back a shiver down his spine, his nerves on edge just from a _single_ look.

"I hope you all have finished your childish quarrel so we can actually get a _damn_ explanation. Jackson, care to _explain_ this?"

Said man only turned a little, seemingly nonchalant, yet even then, Tony could see the slight tenseness around his shoulders, as if any moment now they could all be ambushed. The agent's ocean-like orbs glinted a bit, the rolling waves underneath clashing against each other, _tide_ after tide, _green_ after blue.

"...I think it's clear enough already."

For a moment, everything seemed to still, and Tony _swore_ he could feel the smirk a certain trickster god shot at him. Said god could be seen from the corner of Tony's eye, expression leaking with smugness through the facade of nonchalance, like water through a dam.

"Care to explain, _Reindeer Games?"_

He could feel the cold aura the god emitted, rolling around like the tides of water, _spurning_ and clashing around him, and he, nothing more than a _little_ boat, hanging _desperately_ not to drown.

He _hated_ it, how the liesmith made him feel inferior just from a simple look from those _venomous_ orbs.

"It does not surprise me, to find that your _measly_ mortal mind incapable to decipher it..."

" _Why_ _you_ —"

"—it's a _prophecy_ , you _fool_!"

A heavy blanket seemed to wrap around them, _thick_ yet soft, pressuring yet light. For a moment, Tony _swore_ he could hear the heavy breathing from Clint all on the _other_ side of the room. Had he paid the archer any more mind, he would've found said agent clutching his head in his hands, his body adorned with little, shiny, water droplets that _glistened_ like pearls in the soft light.

" _What_?"

It took Tony a moment to process that it was him who asked that. His mind was in _shambles_ , bits and pieces of everything he once believed in scattered amongst the ground.

"You _can't_ be serious!"

"...on the _contrary_ , Stark..."

A voice drawled out in the middle of the tenseness, _smooth_ as velvet yet as sharp as a _blade_ , demanding for attention, for _submissiveness_ , and Tony found himself unable to resist.

 _Charmed by a siren..._

"...we _are_ serious. This _is_ real, believe me, I _know_..."

... _and then, under you go._

\--

Clint knew he must be _insane_ , to deal with an alien invasion with their crazy, _genius_ leader and an even _more_ crazy genius— _Tony_ _Stark_. With the insanity he had dealt with, he thought it had reached its peak. But _really_ , this topped it all.

 _This is real..._

The words rang in his mind, over and _over_ again like a broken, _stubborn_ record. Clint _wished_ he could wake up, to dissolve this as some sort of weird dream, with his wife laughing at him when he told her.

... _believe me, I know._

But he knew that what he hoped for war unreal, _surreal_. It still amazed him, how much of this _fucked_ - _up_ world had become a _part_ of him, a part of him he _couldn't_ live without.

"How many of us should go?"

All eyes turned to look at him, some burning with the same curiousity— the little flames dancing beneath the glassy surface, _nipping_ and licking— while others shone with incredulousness, as if they couldn't believe how well he had taken it.

" _Well_?"

The demand-like question was soon answered by the only person in the room that seemed to know exactly what's going on. Clint fought back a shiver as those intense ocean of blue and green locked on him, burning with _thunderstorms_ beneath. And then he heard them, the _whispers_ , flowing between the agent's words, subtle yet not, like a _gentle_ caress on the seams of his sanity.

 _Surrender_...

"Three. No more, no less."

... _kneel_...

"Why?"

... _submit_...

"Because if more of us go..."

There was a suffocating silence as the agent drawled on, like smoke from the _burning_ anticipation Clint felt, _fraying_ the knots in his stomach together and sending waves of dread within his body.

"...we might not make it."

Silence reigned with its cold hands once more, gripping them in an _ice-like_ grip, freezing them in fear. Only _one_ — besides the director, looked undisturbed by the agent's words. Loki looked at the said agent with some sort of morbid curiousity, his _venomous_ eyes searching for any sort of hint that may lead him to discover the enigma of an agent. He could _sense_ it, how his curiosity curled within him like an _anaconda_ curled around its _prey_.

"You _know_ something..."

It wasn't so much a question then a statement, the _absolute_ certainty behind it was proof of that. Both of their eyes met, green met green, serpent-like orbs met those of _raging_ storms. Loki watched him, how his eyes swirled like the sea with undefinable emotions, each one clashing and fighting against each other, yet even then, his face remained in a calm and collected mask.

 _A storm beneath the calm..._

It was a while— one which Loki felt was too long, before the agent's pallid lips opened and the smooth, _velvety_ voice cut through the air, confirmation evident in them.

"Indeed..."

When no one spoke, he continued on. The velvet-like voice now laced with something else, like a sword in its scabbard, _unharmful_ yet alarming enough to be wary of.

"...I will need two others to go with me— people whom are able to withstand the harsh cold, people that can adapt quickly and improvise if needed to."

His tone left no room for arguments, his eyes looking at each and every one of them, _cold_ and daring, _challenging_ them to speak up and say their willingness to go with him.

 _Go on..._

The temperature in the room seemed to drop, as if _imitating_ the place that those of them who dared to answer will venture to. A _heavy_ weight seemed to be pressing them down, weighing them, drowning them, _suffocating_ them.

... _I'm waiting._

It wasn't long before one of them snapped, soon followed by another, the tension curling around their insides like a _python_ had finally striked as the string of anxiety broke.

"I'm in."

"So will I..."

The last one startled them, especially Thor. He looked at his brother, surprised by the burning determination behind those dark green pools, aflame yet _arctic_ at the same. Thor _knew_ , how Loki _hated_ the secret behind his origins, the lies and deception he endured for _years_ , to believe in something only to have it come crashing down as he found out he had been living a _lie_.

 _Liesmith..._

Thor knew, how his brother took pride in the title, to bask in the _cold_ shivers of deception, to have it curled around you in its scaly caresses. But Thor also knew, how much it _hurts_ for that pride and joy to be torn down like paper. He could still see it, how the shadows still clung on, how the _pain_ still lingers on like poison, and how the bitter truth cut _harder_ than blades.

 _...they deceive everything..._

"It's decided then, the three of you— Jackson, Barton, and _Loki._ First thing tomorrow. I want that _damned_ gem found and I want it _quick_. Jackson! You know what to do, so I better not hear any of you dying. When you got it, I want you to be back here as soon as _possible_ , no wandering off somewhere else, _got it?_ Good. Good night agents, may the gods be with you.

And then the director left, leaving them all once more in a tense silence. Thor still worried over his brother, despite the calm and nonchalant facade Loki wore. He _knew_ — and he knew his brother do too, that the first part of the prophecy that said ' _to the north'_ meant Alaska, a land filled with ice and snow, the very two things that his brother _used_ to love when they were young, and the very two things he _despised_ the most after he found his origins.

 _What are you thinking... brother?_

\--

 **Whew, that took a long time. Btw, I'm sorry I haven't been active much lately.**

 **It's just that my internet connection is really bad rn.**

 **Don't know why.**

 **And school started.**

 **Yippe.**

 **Not.**

 **Btw, thanks so much for following and favoriting this story. It means so much to me.**

 **Not sure when's the next update is though, probably next week?**

 **IDK**

 **Special thanks for :**

 **fearless musical reader or now TheProfoundNight**

 **and**

 **Dragonette716**

 **and**

 **all of you**

 **Guess I'll see ya later**

 ** _au revoir_**


	14. XII

_Lacuna_

 _(n)_

 _a blank space; a missing part_

\--

It was weird, how his life changed so much like the sea, yet in the end, he _always_ came back to his starting point, his _roots_. Maybe it was in his blood, or maybe it was his _accursed_ luck. Whatever it was, Perseus didn't really care.

There were so many things in life that he just couldn't comprehend, like the secrets buried deep underground, and like Pandora's _pythos_ , he knew that there were just things that should be left on their own. It's like a flower _blooming_ , you can't force it, you can only wait until time opens the bulbs and reveal the bloom underneath.

"Come on! This way! Quick!"

But _still_ , he cursed the fates for sending a group of griffins after them. At times like this, he often wondered why did his life just seemed to _ooze_ bad luck. _I_ _mean_ , he thought, _where_ _on_ _Tartarus_ _is_ **_Tyche_**?

He ducked under the swooping claws of a griffin before darting off to follow the others. The griffin screeched as it failed to catch its prey, its bright yellow orbs flashing like lightnings. Perseus ducked once more to avoid the swing of a large, _feathery_ wing as the griffin turned and soared back to the sky.

At times like this, he _wished_ he was still part of the mythological world. He never regretted leaving it all behind, but sometimes he wondered if he made a mistake, if it all would have been _better_ if he hadn't left— if he was still there, still fighting, breathing, _living_.

There was a piece missing, a piece he couldn't find, one so _minuscule_ yet big at the same time. Akin to a gear of a clock, just one piece missing and it would _never_ feel right.

Ducking under another set of talons, he brought his sword up and slashed at the griffin, the silver metal clashing against the bronze-like fur of the creature. It shrieked it pain, the sound _ear_ - _splitting_ as if it was dragging its talons against his blade. And as the blood that had been sliding down the flat of the metal met the snow-laden earth, the creature gave away one last ragged huff before crumbling into golden dust.

"Hurry!"

Hearing Clint's distant shout reminded Perseus how far behind he was, and he quickly followed the other two into the thick, frosty canopy of the evergreen. The thick branches stretched out above their heads, like thousands of hands, shielding them from the predators in the sky and the blinding sun. Perseus wondered if the nymphs could feel him, know him, _remember_ who he once had been— a _warrior_ of the sea, where the vast ocean lies within him.

It was a while, maybe _hours_ , maybe just mere _minutes_ , when the screeches died down and they stopped running. Silence reigned in the air above them, but not in what below. Perseus closed his eyes as he listened, the faint whispers— no more than like an incoherent mumble, became clearer until he could hear them as if it were right beside his ear.

 _It's him..._

 _...the banished..._

 _...the fallen prince..._

 _...what is he doing here?_

 _Maybe he's on a quest?_

 _A quest?_

 _See, they are three, are they not? Surely they are part of a quest—_

 _—but the one with the bow is mortal, is he not_?

The whispers kept overlapping each other, like the waves of the sea, only smaller and _quieter_. Perseus didn't know why he kept on listening, but the faint voices finally gave him something.

... _those monsters, they're griffins, shouldn't they be in Alaska?_

 _Haven't you heard? Something had been driving them nuts, so **badly** until it drove them out of the place._

 _What?_

 _Rumours said that ever since that bewinged god was bound in chains, the monsters had been acting weird—_

 _—but he was freed by the son of Mars, was he not?_

 _Yes, he was, but when he ever since he was freed, something seemed to drive out all the monsters there._

Perseus listened carefully, his mind automatically storing the information deep within his mind. He drew a shaky breath as he opened his eyes, the hurricane swirling inside his eyes, _churning_ with danger. He could feel the stares, both from his two companions and the dryads. His skin was tingling as shivers ran down his spine, it was as if there were swords touching him, _caressing_ him, the cold kiss of the blades warning him, making his muscles tense up, as if any moment now, the blade will strike like a _python_ , and his blood would litter the ground.

"...Perseus?"

Clint's shaky voice drew him back from his musings, and as he turned to look at the other two, he noticed that they looked different. _No_ , it wasn't their outward appearances, but more like the air around them. Perseus could just barely taste it, the sickeningly _alluring_ smell of fear, drawing you in like a drug.

"Wha...what _are_ those?"

The archer's voice was shaky as the man himself was still panting from the long run, yet even then, it was impossible to miss the underlying edge of a blade— sharp, stubborn, and utterly _demanding_.

For a moment, Perseus's eyes flickered to their other companion. The wordsmith had been silent throughout the whole thing, and had he been unable to sense the _suffocating_ aura, he would've thought the trickster wasn't there at all.

"...griffins."

Caught unaware by the unexpected answer, Clint didn't quite catch what the other agent had been saying.

"...what?"

"I _said_ , those creatures are griffins—"

—wait... what the he—

"—and they shouldn't have been here."

Silence spread its wings, tucking them all under its _mighty_ shadow and brushing against Clint's sanity. He could just feel it, the wall inside his mind _crumbling_ down into dusts and leaving chaos in its wake.

A heavy weight then seemed to push him from behind, its cold hands _itching_ him to move, to just step away and crumble down to the ground. There were only two people that had that biting feeling, and _unfortunately_ , the one behind him wasn't the one he wished to see.

 _Go_...

Clint looked back over his shoulders as he stepped away, his muscles _tensing_ and ready to spring into action. He still didn't trust the man, no, _god_. Even if it had been a while, the strings of mistrust were still wrapped _tightly_ around his heart, almost choking him, but it was a feeling he had gotten used to as demanded by his job as both a spy and an assassin.

... _flee_...

Loki looked indifferent, but that didn't surprise him, as the trickster was known for his lack of emotions. But what _did_ surprise him, was the fact that a curious, _interested_ , little glint seemed to spark inside the serpentine eyes.

"What may you mean by ' _shouldn't have been here_ '? Surely you must have known something, considering the tone which you have used. Is there something you have kept from us, _Perseus_?"

It started off quite _innocently_ , but slowly it got more and more accusing, almost as if he was trying to put the blame on someone, to start a quarrel, to wreak _havoc_ among them.

... _run, like the coward you are_...

Clint had wondered why the god was deemed as the _wordsmith_ , but seeing how he played with the words, twisted the facts to fit his needs, and turned the conversation over, there was no doubt that what the tales had told was _nothing_ but true.

Clint turned his focus to the other member of their group, one that seemed to know more about this than any of them. He took in the impassive face, the cold look in those _stormy_ orbs, the way the agent stood with an air of a warrior, and there was no doubt that whatever Loki was doing, it was on dangerous waters.

"I _do_ know of things, _things_ which none of you know, but until I deemed it _fit_ for you to be so, my lips would be sealed. As for the griffins, they usually resides within the borders of Alaska, but they seemed to have moved here, so by all means we are on the right track."

"What do you mean, ' _on the right track_ '?"

It took a while for Clint to realise he had been the one to ask, as the other two's attention swiveled to focus on him.

He _hated_ it, how they seemed to bore into him and _unravel_ his fears.

"What I meant, is that griffins are creatures of _pride_. They will not back down from a fight, nor do they fear _anything_. For them to fear something so much as they fled from their habitat, now that _alone_ is impressive, but add _that_ to the prophecy—"

"—the stone must be _there,_ somewhere..."

Realisation dawned upon Clint as the cold wind blew against his skin, much like the _gnawing_ truth that seemed to _slap_ him back to reality, a reality where things are harder than they seemed to be, and he wondered, _why did I agree to this again?_

\--

To be honest, Perseus didn't know how long had they walked through the forest. But what he _did_ know, was that the nagging feeling that had been growing stealthily in the bottom of his stomach like a tumor got to the point where he was on constant alert. His fingers was twitching and every so often he caught himself beginning to reach out for his sword.

 _Near..._

His instincts had been clawing his mind, _begging_ him for something he didn't know. It didn't help that the path they were walking on seemed eerily familiar, not enough to remind him of something extremely dangerous, but just enough to mean that whatever it was— it _wasn't_ pleasant.

 _...something's here..._

If his nerves weren't enough to put a strain in his mind, then the bird circling over their heads certainly did it. He swore, even with the trees obstructing his view of the bird, that it was— _had been,_ following them. It was almost as if it was _herding_ them towards somewhere, like a German Shepherd.

He never knew how right he was until he arrived at the sight of a familliar, burnt cabin in the middle of the woods.

\--

 **Hey guys. Yeah I know. It's been a while.**

 **Don't worry, I'm not dead...**

 **...yet.**

 **Short chapter, IK.**

 **Been busy.**

 **You know.**

 **Try-outs and stuff.**

 **Might update this again later though.**

 **Not sure when.**

 **Pray for me.**

 **Guess that's it for now.**

 ** _Au revoir~_**


	15. XIII

_Kuddelmuddel_

 _(n)_

 _An unstructured mess._

\--

It was _chaos_.

Rocks and stone thrown haphazardly across the land, broken shards of glass that shone like pearls, and the occasional fragments of Buddha statues were a sight to be seen. And as they made it through the land, Perseus started noticing more.

Pieces of wood and splinters laid on the ground, adorned with a soft blanket of moss and jewels of snow. Yet even then, the charred earth underneath held no secrets of the events that had transpired here.

It still pained him, how his former friend and comrade had screamed, wanting no more than to turn back and do something, _anything_.

He could still smell it, the smell of smoke and fire burning through the air, soon joined by the burning of flesh.

 _To the north of smoke and fire..._

A scream, a desperate hope, rang in his ears. Not his, _no_ , but it still burns. He could just see the streams of tears sliding down slightly chubby cheeks and down until it fell to the ashen ground.

 _...where the prince once cried in despair._

Realisation hit him like a brick, oddly not reminding him of a certain companion he once had. No, instead he felt like that certain companion's sister had struck him. He understood now, what the prophecy meant, what they _want_. And he'd set it in motion.

Ignoring his other two companions, he climbed up through the ashes and ruins and looked up to the sky. His palms clenched as the blank nothingness of the clear sky mocked him, taunting him at how they managed to hide the tragedy that reign these lands once ago.

He _hated_ it, those pretty white lies.

He didn't knew how long he stared, how long he just stood in silence before out of those sickeningly innocent canvas of blue came out a single, dark blob. Perseus braced himself, not because he was afraid, but because he _knew_ what must be done.

 _Soon..._

And soon it was, as the blob descended and the sound of bones cracking resonated through the air. What was once a vulture— _cold_ and _apathetic_ with its beady eyes, now an older woman— posture _strong_ despite the creak in her bones and eyes as sharp as knives beneath the milkiness of age.

For a while, nothing moved, nothing mattered. From the corner of his eye he could see Clint readying his bow and shouting his name, yet it didn't matter. _Nothing mattered._

 _This is it._

"Perseus..."

 _One last time._ _One last fight._

"...walk with me."

 _For Olympus_.

\--

They walked side by side in an area of the forest where the ground was clean of snow, having it being blocked by the dense trees around them.

"You've changed."

Perseus sucked in a breath, the cold chilly air making its way into his lungs, slightly itching him as the silence carried on. Only broken by the crunching of leaves and twigs underneath their soles— loud as bones breaking in the silence between them.

He knew she'd noticed.

Vaguely, he remembered that there were birds here, yet at that moment, not a single caw of the rare but occasional bald eagle nor the chirp of the little bluejay could be heard.

He wondered if it was from the presence of the monsters from before or if it was from the presence of the lady walking beside him.

"I have."

Perseus answered back, tone steady and monotonous, never once betraying the slight ripple of emotions bubbling underneath his skin, raging and chaotic like an unstructured mess.

And once more, awkward silence grasped control of the situation here.

He could feel her eyes— _beady_ like those of the vulture's, staring at him, like a predator watching at its prey, waiting for the right moment to strike.

Perseus knew what she wanted to ask. He could feel it coming.

 _Wait for it._

"How's Fai?"

 _I don't know_.

"...good, the last time I saw him, that is."

Well, it wasn't _technically_ a lie.

"Good, then..."

Oh, how he still remembered the look of satisfaction painted on his former friend's face as he drove him out of camp— out of his _home_.

 _Out of the world he loved_.

He could still feel her eyeing him, and he knew she wasn't done.

The constant and rhythmic pace was broken by a question, a question that sent the bubbling beneath his skin into hot lava, akin to the one inside Mount St. Helens, just _waiting_ to burst out.

Hot, bubbling, and _fiery_.

"How come Fai is not with you?"

Perseus sucked in a small breath, nearly inaudible among the snaps of the twigs and the crunch of leaves, yet he knew the woman beside him heard it. With her inhumanely sharp hearing, there's no way she'd miss it.

Her eyes turned sharper as her legs stopped their movement and her feet planted firmly to the ground and she turned her body to him, her eyes— _dark_ , nearly black, locked on his stormy ones, peering into his soul.

 _Well_

Her tone was like an arrow fired from a hunter's bow— _sharp_ , on-point, and merciless.

"What happened?"

Perseus steadied his voice and calmed the ripple beneath his skin. When he spoke, his tone was calm, not betraying anything, just like he was trained to do.

"...you _do_ know that I'm not the only friend he has—"

"—but _you_ are one of the few he _trusted the most_ , aside from that Levesque girl, that is."

For a while, it seemed as if time had gone still, as neither of them answered and the sound around them seemed to have vanished.

He remembered how _he_ screamed and refused to believe his words.

 _I trusted you!_

Perseus knew he could just leave, but seeing her seemingly strong and steady visage despite her age, and the slight flicker of worry for her grandson— the _last_ of her kin alive, inside her glinting black eyes, he knew there was no way he couldn't answer.

 _"What happened?"_

She pressed on, once again. Her eyes hardening and peering at him from beneath her lashes. Her face—weathered by age, making her seemed _sterner_ and duller.

"We..."

A slight pause, a _slight_ moment of hesitation, before he pressed on.

"...we kind of... _separated_."

"Oh."

That was what it took before the continued their walk throughout the woods. He knew she'd suspected something else, but whatever it was, it seemed like she had no interest in pressing him on for it.

They soon stopped, and he could see the deserted ruins once more, his two companions standing on edge, glancing wearily around them.

"I hope whatever disagreement you have with him, you'll get over it..."

She began, and Perseus stayed silent, knowing he didn't hace a definite answer for that one as he clenched his fists slightly.

 _Maybe_...

 _Just maybe..._

"Oh, and Perseus..."

She turned to look at him, seemingly searching for something before she reached into the pocket of her pants and handed him something.

It was an amulet, perhaps once beautiful and shining, but now dull and rusty with age.

"Take it."

Yet his hands stayed still as he watched it wearily. And seeing this she continued on.

"It was given to us a long time ago, something as a _gift_ for our kin by your father when he blessed Periclymenus, our ancestor. An amulet of protection, they said, with the core of a rare gem. Huh, guess how _well_ that worked..."

She stopped for a while and chuckle bitterfully, remembering her late daughter and her grandson whose lifeline was forever tied to a _single_ piece of wood, before she continued on.

"We've protected it for eons... and now we're giving it back to the sea. _Take it."_

She never waited for him, as she grabbed his hand and put it on his palm, closing his fingers around them in a fist before drawing back her hand to fish out another thing— _a letter_ , golden and _tattered_ with age, and handed it to him.

"I know he thought I died, _forever_ _lost_ within the flames, and I never told him I'm still alive, but..."

Something once more clicked within his mind.

 _The dead, the lost, the soul at cost..._

"...give this to Fai, if you ever see him. And _please_ , tell him that I love him and for him to _never_ look for me, as I will come when I'm ready."

 _Mend the bond broken beyond repair..._

Her dark eyes locked on his, _pleading_ him to _listen_ to her.

"Follow your instincts, _half-blood_. The key to which you seek is within you. Remember that."

She stepped back, sucking in a breath as her form morphed slowly. Her bones breaking and reassembling, the cracks as loud as ever in the woods.

"Farewell, _halfling_ , may the gods be with you."

And with a final crack, a vulture stood in her place and flew into the vast blue sky, dissolving into nothingness once more, leaving Perseus standing there— posture straight and looking up at the sky, the storm within his eyes cleared slightly. A ghost of a smile painted on his lips.

And as he heard his companions rushed to his location, seemingly having heard the loud crack, he whispered to the white nothingness.

 _"Thank you."_

\--

 **So, I'm not dead.**

 **But I think soon I will be.**

 **I mean, I'm _supposed_ to study for finals tomorrow.**

 **But instead I wrote _this._**

 **Well,**

 _ **#prayforme**_

 **Not quite sure when is the next update, but I'll _try_ to post at least once more this month.**

 **And wow, it's been almost a year, huh?**

 **Bet ya thought I discontinued this, huh.**

 **Question : how many actually read what I post in the A/N?**

 **Well, see ya later, I guess.**

 **Curse you physics and the parabole motion that I just can't seem to grasp.**

 _ **au Revoir~**_

 **Sincerely**

 _ **-me**_


	16. XIV

_Adronitis_

 _(n)_

 _frustation of how long it takes_

 _to get to know_

 _someone_

\--

Loki was interested.

The raven-haired prince knew he didn't show it, but he was. The feeling of slight _itchiness_ plagued him for the entire journey was proof of that.

He watched and watched and watched, seemingly uninterested when he himself was _curious_. The perfect mask, some might say, only achieved throughout years of training and masking one's emotions.

 _But even mountains fall..._ _...and those masks will crack at some point._

And he, as a seidrmann, had more than enough power to break and see through those barriers, as easy as tearing through a thin layer of paper, leaving the other's mind and thoughts _defenseless_ for him to wreak havoc or mend it as he wishes to.

But yet, he then came across an anomaly— a _rare_ one, he could say.

One that caused him _endless_ frustration.

Perseus.

An agent of the mortal agency— SHIELD.

A seemingly _normal_ mortal at first glance— yet hides secrets nobody knew.

A _warrior_ , he could tell, as he remembered the cold and dark eyes that swirled like a storm trapped beneath a layer of thin ice— cold, ruthless, merciless, _broken_.

A _mystery_.

Oh, how Loki couldn't _wait_ to crack the puzzle and solve the riddle.

He could feel the magic in him trembling as his powers hum, syncing with his gleeful thoughts of the day he would accomplish it. His hands trembled slightly, unable to suppress his desire.

A desire to _destroy_ that mask.

Perseus.

What a lovely name.

What a lovely enigma he is.

 _His enigma..._

\--

Clint knew he's had his fair share of crazies, especially a few hours before when the other agent told them to get in a car that seemingly came out of _nowhere_ — but oh, boy, was he in for a _ride_.

"Are...are those... _giants_?!"

Indeed, there were several of them. Each towering over them at approximately 30 feet, enough to sent shivers down Clint's spine. They were clumped together near a frozen lake, each stomping their foot and bellowing, yet neither seemed to move towards the other.

A sharp pressure sent another shiver down Clint's spine, but this time, it was worse. Akin to a knife dragging itself along flesh, cold and dangerous, that was how Clint felt when he turned his head away from the window and met dark, _stormy_ pools in the little mirror in front.

"...yes."

He sounded wary, as if Clint just treaded along something he shouldn't have, and Clint felt as if he was a prey skirting along the edges of a lion's den— the mighty predator watching him with beady eyes, just waiting for an opportunity. One wrong move and he'd _die_.

He was cut back from his thoughts as a loud bellow tore through the air as if it was a blade cutting water, enough to cause a small avalanche in a nearby mountain range.

Luckily for them, they were quite far away, otherwise he wouldn't have doubted it would cause them some casualties.

Clint turned to look at the window once more at the giants, briefly catching a glimpse of the trickster god next to him perking up subtly to look at the scene outside.

It seems like one of the giants had been the one who let out that sound and was now hurling something at the others, his— or at least Clint _thought_ it was a he, silvery white hair glinting in the sunlight, reflecting the light like metal catching the sunlight.

The others soon followed, and then whatever it was that was hurled at them by the first one was soon tossed back, and it kept on going like this. They seemed to be enjoying it, Clint mused, as he watched them going on with whatever they were doing almost _gleefully_ — their blue skin occasionally flickering transparent, camouflaging them against the snowy background.

"What in the name of Yggdrasil are they _doing_?".

Clint turned to the owner of the voice, finding the one person he liked the least looking equally as bewildered as he was, at least, that's what Clint thought, as the god just kept a blank face and the same cold eyes.

Only the slight waver and tone in his question betrayed his emotions.

"The _fuck_ should I know."

An eyebrow raise was all the god gave him— nothing more, nothing less. The look in his poisonous orbs mocking him, taunting him, _begging_ him to fight, and Clint had to resist the urge to do so for the sake of Thor, who still cares for his _deranged_ brother no matter what. Oh, how Clint would _love_ to pin him with his arrows.

 _What?_ He still had a grudge over the 'glowstick of destiny' incident, okay?

They stared to each others' eyes, both sizing the other up as pale blue orbs met malicious green in a battle not spoken.

Clint knew, that if they were in anywhere but Alaska, he without doubt wouldn't last long, because he knew— he _knew_ that this Loki was not the same as the Loki back then.

He could feel it, _taste_ it, how the air around him still churned with a dark force, slowly but surely crawling up his skin like a caress of a lover.

Alaska could only do so much to block the raging power _crawling_ beneath the god's skin, and Clint soon felt a mere flicker of it.

 _Kneel..._

Clint narrowed his eyes at the god as he gritted his teeth, the sound of his teeth grinding over each other reverberated within his skull like the creak of a door in a silent room, loud, fear-instilling, _anticipating_.

 _Never..._

A sharp pressure stopped his mental battle as he felt the air was knocked out of his lungs, momentarily decorating his sight with little black dots that were becoming bigger each second, until they abruptly were painted with white before disappearing along with a ring within his eardrums.

 _What the—_

Clint blinked and adjusted his vision on Loki, and found out that the said god was also winded, albeit not as much as him. Still, Clint couldn't help the small bloom of both pride and satisfaction uncurling within his chest.

"Both of you— _out_!"

An icy tone rang through the air, the fire benath the ice failed to went unnoticed. With a slight jolt, Clint remembered the other man in the car, having gone silent and thus momentarily forgotten.

Yet the pressure slamming down unto him reminding Clint of who he forgot.

"...wha...?"

"And what is it you are planning once you've thrown us out?"

 _And so the bitch is back_ , Clint grimaced, _damned silvertongues._

Much to Clint's appreciation and bewilderment, the other man only cocked his eyebrow up and turned the car off. Clint noticed that they have stopped somewhere between his fight with the trickster, but wherever they were was swallowed within the thick fog uncurling around them like a giant bloom of smoke, shielding their vision.

"If you two still want to continue your 'battle', might as well _get the fuck out of **my** car_ and let me _finish the damn job!"_

And then the agent turned to look at them both, and Clint _swore_ the caress of Loki's magic which is still curled around him like python _trembled_ , but it wasn't long until it stabilised itself again.

Perseus' stormy eyes locked on both of them and Clint was once again reminded of how equally terrifying the agent in front of him was.

"...are we clear?"

Such simple and soft-spoken words, yet the churning of waves beneath reminding him of the danger beneath the thin ice he was walking on. And he, _drowned_ in both of their powerful auras, barely suppressed his shudders and nodded.

Clint could see the god next to him nod warily from the corner of his eye.

" _Good_..."

And then he turned once more and with a click, the car door was opened, and the agent was out into the coldness of Alaska and into the mist outside.

"...cause we're here. Welcome to Seward ."

\--

The cold air nipped at his skin, much like the tingling in his gut did, scratching and crawling, _begging_ him to let them free, but Perseus knew he could not, not unless he wished for them to come.

Oh, how he _missed_ it.

Taking a breath of the icy and numbing coldness of the small town, he turned to go back inside the hut, ignoring the biting frost making its way down his lungs, scratching and grating, till it disappeared the more he got acquainted once more with it, as if it was recognizing and old friend.

Perseus knew that in _some_ way, it was true.

He could still feel it, how the frost here _welcomed_ him and offered him a sanctuary not too long ago, and how the same frost now welcomed him back. It was ironic, how he felt safe and _warm_ in the chilly embrace of Alaska, away from the gods.

The boards under his feet creaked and groaned, but amidst it all, not a single footstep could be heard, as if only the gentle caress of his shadow was to touch it.

Soon enough, he made his way in, only sparing the pictures and drawings a single glance before zeroing in on the older agent curled up in some sheets, his huddled form shivering slightly.

Maybe once, Perseus wouldn't have dared to even look at those pictures and drawings— how the flash of hazel eyes _hurt_ him, but that time seemed like centuries ago, as he now felt _nothing_ towards them.

Everything had changed, including him, the only thing is, he couldn't decide whether or not it was for the better or the worse.

Nonetheless, it would change _nothing_.

"How was it?"

Perseus focused his green eyes on the huddled form, his mouth setting in a flat line as he answered back.

"Not much. None would _dare_ to take us there in this weather..."

A heavy silence hung in the air as Clint sighed, burrowing his nose deeper within the sheets. He closed his eyes momentarily, seemingly asleep, before opening them once more to look at the young man— no, _boy_ , standing in front of him.

"...aren't you _cold_?"

The young boy only raised an eyebrow, and Clint took that as a reason to continue.

"I mean, I get _him_ over there..."

He gestured over at the god seemingly asleep at the other end of the room with his head leaning on the wall and his hands clasped together, pausing momentarily before pressing on once more.

"...being all 'almighty' god and all... but what about _you_? Cause, _kid_ , no offense and all, but you don't seem like a god."

Clint watched as Perseus took it all in, seemingly mulling it all before focusing his— dare he say it, _unnerving_ green eyes. Clint swore they glowed a bit with power, before settling back with the usual dark and stormy whirlpools of the unknown.

"...it was before I entered SHIELD..."

He started, hesitating for awhile, lingering on his thoughts before carrying ahead.

"...I was— to put it lightly, _lost_. I had nowhere to go, no one to turn to, so I came here, to Alaska. I was here for a couple while, and I guess... I got _used_ to the cold."

Clint pondered it all over with a hum. He hadn't expected to get that much of an answer, but if he guessed correctly, this place— Alaska, was the boy's _home_ , and he'd heard that being in your own home sooths your being. After all, _home is where the heart is._

"Well... the cold here is kind of welcoming, isn't it?"

 _And the bitch is awake,_ Clint scowled.

To his surprise, Perseus cocked his head to the side and answered with a curt nod before turning his head away.

"...it is."

And that was the last words he spoke for the day.

Clint had no idea what the two ravenheads meant, but what he _did_ know is that the night they spent there was quiet, as neither of them three spoke much— the tiredness from earlier soaking into their bones, and the moon was equally as silent— the silver shine eluminating a single silhouette in the distance, their feet stepping onto the ground lightly as they moved towards the little town, unbeknownst to others.

\--

 **Soo...I'm gonna clear up some things...**

 **Pairing is still undecided, I don't even. _know_ if I want any at all. No, the whole Loki sh*t at the beginning isn't a hint for a pairing, it's just a normal thing for the Loki I envisioned to think.**

 **If I _do_ decide for a pairing, it will be:**

 **1\. Slow burn, like _really, really_ , slow. I don't really like having a fast-paced relationship, cause dude, I want some character build-up and some _angst._..**

 **2\. Difficult to notice, as I _would_ throw some random sh*ts that'll make you _think_ it's a hint for a pairing, cause I'm a lil' _sadist_.**

 **I think it'll be cute to see y'all tryna figure it out.**

 **IDK, I might even leave it _ambiguous_.**

 **It's up to y'all to interpret it.**

\--

 **Now, moving on for this chapter's discussion :**

 **1\. Clint ain't stupid. I think he'd notice that the moment they stepped into Alaska, the whole aura around Perseus and Loki seemed to have disappeared or just dimmed down.**

 **2\. The giants Clint were talking about _are_ Hyperboreans, which means they weren't _meant_ to be seen by mortals, that's why Perseus was suspicious.**

 **3\. If you have noticed, Loki didn't just teleport them, and neither did Perseus. The reason is that I made it so you can not teleport to a place you've never been to before. For Perseus it's a whole 'nother reason you'll have to find out later on.**

 **4\. Yes, the whole character setting is _kinda_ dark, especially for Perseus, cause man, if I were to go through the whole thing he's been through, I'd be the same.**

 **5\. Yes, Clint _did_ refer Loki as a _'bitch',_ cause IDEK, why did I write that again?**

\--

 **And now something I forgot to put last chapter:**

 **BOOYYAAAA WHO'S BACCKKK??? GRANNY ZHANG IS BACK AND ALIVE AND KICKIN' ASS! WHOOP! WHOOP!**

 **Ahem, sorry, but I _really_ love Grandma Zhang, 'cause she's one piece of BAMF.**

\--

 **Okay, next thing, can you guess the 'mysterious' figure I put at the end?**

 **Hints:**

 **1\. 'Follow your roots'.**

 **2\. Perseus have met them, although in a different setting.**

 **3\. They play an important piece.**

\--

 **Okay, next up, I know some of you have been complaining about how I went to _far too many_ details about the eyes and it's getting repetitive and annoying...**

 **...be assured, I won't do that much anymore, I don't think I have for the last few chapters.**

 **I re-read some parts of my story and I _cringed_.**

 **Trust me, I get it.**

\--

 **Moving on, this is for SpencerDorman:**

 **Thank you _so much,_ I absolutely love reviews as they help me along the way and yours is one of the best constructive ones I've gotten.**

 **Thank you for telling me about an error in Shadow Of The Snow.**

 **The thing is, I was wondering about how I could get Loki and Perseus to meet, so I eventually decided on having Loki transform into a lil' kid while I was writing that part.**

 **That's why I accidentally wrote 'childhood memories'.**

 **I've changed the error already.**

 **Once again, thanks.**

\--

 **Finally, I've decided on giving you all some _gifts_ for Christmas (and also as an apology for my long HIATUS):**

 **1\. Fun Fact: Did you notice that my writing style sometimes change? Like it could be light and all, but then it turned dark and heavy? It's cause of the time I wrote the thing.**

 **If it's light that means I wrote it at day, if it's dark that means I wrote it at night.**

 **2\. Other Fun Fact: Sooo...someone told me this is a dark!fic, well, when I started this, it wasn't _supposed_ to be dark at all. So... haha...**

 **3\. Ask me a question. It could be about anything, and I'll answer the top three.**

 **4\. A one-shot. I don't know when I'll be able to finish this one, but _hopefully_ before January.**

\--

 **Well, guess that's it, whew, this was long.**

 **I might never do this kind of thing anymore.**

 **I mean the Author Note...**

 **This took _forever..._**

 **Well, better be going to sleep then..**

 **It's three in the morning here.**

 ** _au Revoir~_**


	17. Christmas One-shot II

_Snow..._

 _...he hadn't noticed it before..._

 _...how beautiful..._

 _...just like **him**..._

\--

It was dark.

As dark as the night sky outside, akin to dark waters only found near the depths of the sea, cold and unforgiving as it reigned the time without stars.

Only the slight shine of the moon which peeked slightly behind the veil of constant gloom made it through the barred windows, highlighting pale skin and high cheekbones— the shine making it look sharper and the face slightly obscured a lot sterner than it was as the shadows casted became more pronounced.

Yet it all couldn't distract from the raging ocean beneath those eyes as they watched something, _deathly_ still.

"..p-please..."

A soft and quiet whimper echoed throughout the dark. It was broken, as if it was a piece from a once-pretty vase which was shattered— the rest of the pieces unable to be put back together.

Yet the waves stayed frozen, and those eyes never moved.

Green eyes tore through the dark as they watched the other man, shielded by the shadows. They took it his desperate, crazed look and his slumped form on the ground as blood trickled slowly from his busted lips and slightly balding head— the what may be once-soft, brown locks disappearing slowly with time.

 _Mercy..._

That was what the broken man wanted.

That was what they _always_ wanted.

That was what he couldn't give anymore

He watched as the other man dragged himself to lean on the wall and lifted his head up to look at him more clearly, hoping he could persuade him to spare his life.

That was what they all did.

That was what they all _tried_ to do.

That was when they all _failed_.

He watched as he opened his mouth, gasping for breath as the man struggled to open his eyes— his eyelids sealed shut and as heavy as a brick whilst his skin was decorated with bruises, all painted a gruesome shade of red and purple.

He watched silently as the other finally managed his seemingly simple task and opened his eyes, looking dazed and unfocused for a while as they searched for his figure, which they eventually found.

Soft, glossy brown eyes met hard, cold green in a battle seemingly without a victor— until one looked away and his eyes met the ground as he whimpered slightly.

"... _please_...have mercy..."

Yet as time ticked by, there was only silence to greet him. The man covered in veils of darkness neither giving him freedom to continue his life _nor_ snuffing it out.

He just stood there, embraced by the darkness surrounding him as he watched him, as if _searching_ for something.

And he knew, something within those frozen storm unnerved him.

It was _quiet_.

 _Too quiet..._

 _...like a calm before the storm._

And as it was, the string of patience and slight endurance he had finally cracked under the pressure budding up in the air, pressing unto his skin and soaking in, _freezing_ his bones and rattling up his soul.

He _screamed—_ shouted until whatever little breath he had was wasted, and he was left wheezing on the cold, hard ground.

"...what do you _want_ from me?"

He asked softly, tiredly, _brokenly_ as the pressure carried on and the state of his mind crumbled more as a slight string of insanity wove its way in.

He watched as the younger man still entwined with the shadows watched him, his unsettling eyes eyeing him like a predator. He watched, and soon the hysteria and budding fear got to him and a dark thought came brewing up within his distorted mind as his own brown eyes hardened.

 _Freak_.

That was what the broken man _thought_.

That was what the teen grasped within the darkness— Perseus, _heard_.

And Perseus remembered, the days that has long passed, lost within the ruins of the passage of time.

 _Freak._

 _Monster._

 _Abomination._

He could still hear it— the jeers and the _mockeries_ as they kicked him and punched him with all their might, and his silent pleas for it all to stop.

 _Please..._

He remembered, how it never worked, so he kept his silence.

 _...stop it._

He remembered, how he always felt different. He remembered, when others would single him out because of it. He remembered, how he was _so_ tired— of being pushed around and mocked, just because of his _difference_. He remembered, when he decided to put on a mask.

 _Conceal..._

He remembered, how the masks he made never lasted long. He remembered, having his mask _torn_ down and ripped apart as those who mocked him resorted to a more _physical_ abuse as he wouldn't respond anymore to their taunts.

 _Don't feel..._

He remembered, having _sworn_ to himself that he would create a better, more _perfect_ mask— so perfect, even his closest friends would never found out about it.

 _Put on a show..._

He remembered, having been whisked away to a world he never knew. He remembered, feeling the sweet relief at the revelation of not being the odd one out anymore— that he wouldn't have to wear this _suffocating_ mask anymore— that someone, _anyone_ , would see him. He remembered, the snake slowly coiling its way around his soul as he realised that no one ever saw past his mask. He remembered, feeling like an abomination once more. He remembered, slowly getting used to it all and accepting the weird world he is living on as his home.

He remembered, the day he crumbled to the ground and wept for ages— Chiron standing there looking solemn as he watched the young boy before him crumbled the police reports within his hand, the papers creasing and eventually tearing in the middle.

 _Please..._

 _...not you too..._

He remembered, the day he was accused of and banished.

He remembered, walking home and was slapped with the painful truth that he wouldn't be seeing his mother again.

He remembered, the realisation that the only person who loved him as he _truly_ was...

... _was_ _gone_.

He was alone.

He remembered it all, every single suffocating bit as he realised no one would ever accept him as the _freak_ he was, _no one._

 _...but that wasn't all true..._

A traitorous whisper echoed within his mind, as he cocked his gun and raised it up until it rested between hateful, glaring, brown eyes.

"Well...WHAT ARE YOU WAITING FOR, YOU _FREAK_?! HUH?! KILL ME ALREADY!"

Perseus watched as the man in front of him started to lose whatever bit of sanity he once held, as the clarity within those brown orbs diminished like a candle being snuffed out and a cackling, maniacal laughter bursted out from the man's dry lips.

"DO IT! WHO WOULD EXPECT LESS FROM A CREATURE LIKE YOU?! EMOTIONLESS, UNLOVED, _FREAK_!"

And as Perseus was about to pull the trigger, he heard the soft voice yet again.

. _..there is still him..._

Perseus might've remembered many things, and most probably buried just as many, but there are few that shone brightly within his mind— one of them are of _him_.

A spark of blue flashed within his mind, and that was all it took before he saw _him_ once more.

 _Blue..._

He could still see it, how the boy stood proudly with his back ramrod straight and his features as sharp as the spikes of ice hanging off the edges of buildings. He remembered, the silky black locks fluttering slightly in the cold chilly air as he watched his _magnificent_ work in the skies— all of it hidden from the rest of the world as in that moment there is only the two of them, sheltered in their own little world.

... _.I like blue..._

It may not be much to others, but as Perseus watched the thin blue ribbons wove its way in the skies, he had never felt happier.

He was alone for so very long, as the other children strayed as far away from him or mocked him and his mother weren't always with him no matter how much she tried. He could recall almost believing that he was always going to be alone, and he still remembered the dreary feeling of bleak grayness creeping into his mind, turning the world into a dark and _depressing_ world.

But then _he_ swooshed in and Perseus's world returned to colours once more.

It may not be much to others, but to him, that simple act made an impact far greater than one could've imagined.

He never did believe in knights in shining armours that only existed within the fairytales his mother told him, _no_ , not until that day. Perseus believed, he had found his knight.

 _His hero._

He remembered, how he waited for the other to come back, the seconds ticking and the years passing by, but he never did come.

He waited, and until the moment his parents died did he give up and moved on.

 _But he never forgot._

After all, he did give him the best gift he could've ever imagined.

A _spark_ that drove him until now.

A _spark_ to be what he was today.

It was one of the brightest spark, no, _fire_ , that drove him to be what he was. It was what drove him, made him, _pushed_ him to help others. It was made him _stay_ and do all those _quests_ after _quests_ after _quests_. It was what made him stay and keep on _fighting_ , despite all the hate and the discrimination of the gods. It was what made him _strong_ , and pushed him to do his best despite the odds.

It wasn't some hero like Heracles and all his twelve labours that inspired him to try his damnedest to be a hero.

 _No_.

It was only _him_.

A simple stranger with _no ties_ to himself.

A simple stranger who had _all the rights_ to just leave him there crying all alone on Christmas.

A simple stranger, who _brought light_ back into his darkening world.

It wasn't some impressive feat.

It wasn't the gift he gave him so he could give it to his mother.

It was only his _kindness_ , that could be reflected back within those dark pools.

It was then, did Perseus learn not to listen to all those jeers and hurtful words, because he knew, he _knew_ if that was all true, then his mother wouldn't have loved him and _he_ wouldn't have been so kind to him back then.

 _He_ was his burning amber within this dark and cold world.

A thought came upon him like a brick, and he finally realized that he wasn't alone, for even if they weren't there, he still had his memories.

 _...his support..._

Soon, his image of _him_ crumbled and fluttered into the wind as he refocused back onto the man in front of him, meeting his hateful brown eyes with his piercing green as he lifted his gun up once more.

"DO IT! WHAT ARE YOU WAITING FOR?! YOU THINK YOU ARE SO HIGH AND MIGHTY?! HUH?! DON'T YOU?! YOU ARE JUST AS WORSE AS I AM! _DO IT!"_

Perseus has met many like him, all delirious like him in the end as their strings of sanity— no matter how strong, was _broken_ in the end, but he knew, he _knew_ that tonight— it was going to be different. Perseus curled his fingers around the trigger, the cold metal contrasting against the burning heat roaring inside him, and for the first time in that night, did he spoke.

" _No_...you are wrong..."

And the man in front of him started screaming hysterically before silence reigned in once more after a loud bang and a bright flash of light within the dark.

Silence coated the air with its thick and daunting pressure once more, but this time, Perseus felt that it was lighter as he stood there watching glassy and unfocused brown eyes— all just _mere_ centimeters away from a hole in the concrete beside it, still fresh as smoke slowly came out of it and the fresh line of blood at the side of his head.

"...I am not like you..."

And with a flick of his wrist, the glazed brown eyes closed as Perseus hit him with the back of his gun.

 _'Extraction required...'_

Perseus held a hand to his ear-com and waited for a response. Soon enough a buzzing sound echoed within the air as an another message came.

' _Status?'_

His eyes flickered quickly to the battered form laying next to him.

 _Mercy..._

That was what he _wanted_.

That was what they _all_ wanted.

That was what he never gave.

Yet tonight, he did.

And oddly enough, he was _happy_ about it.

Biting back a sigh, he pressed on his ear-com once more.

'... _u_ _nconscious.._.'

There was a moment of silence before a reply went through, and he was glad there had been no other questions following it.

 _'ETA in two minutes. Good work, agent.'_

And then the line went out with a buzz.

\--

Within the silence, stood one silhouette— his posture was straight as he stared out to the window.

 _Snow..._

He noted dully as a snowflake fluttered through the window, the moonlight hitting it _just_ right, making it glitter like a little starlight within the night.

 _...how beautiful..._

It wasn't long until a small smile ghosted his features. It has been so _long_ since he last smiled, as he was reminded by the slight uncomfortable feeling of his skin being stretched, but at that moment, it was left forgotten.

 _...it has been **so** long..._

Perhaps it was inappropriate, considering the gruesome scene inside, but Perseus couldn't care less as his darkened eyes lightened considerably and the storm inside dissipated.

 _...thank you..._

It was the second time he spoke that night, and this time, it was soft and almost inaudible as he whispered to both himself and a boy who was lost within his memories.

"Merry Christmas..."

\--

 **Yay, I _finally finished this shit._**

 **Seriously, I got some problems so I ended up procrastinating.**

 **If this is not up to my usual standard, you know why.**

 **Procrastination.**

 **Yeap.**

 **Tbh, the first draft of this was actually rather controversial.**

 **And I ended up changing over half of this whole thing.**

 **And if you hadn't noticed, this is a companion to the one-shot I made last year— 'Shadow of the Snow'.**

 **And I guess I have one last thing to do.**

 **MERRY CHRISTMAS AND HAPPY NEW YEAR TO ALL YOU GUYS.**

 **Hope you have an amazing holiday.**

 **And I guess that's it.**

 **So...**

 ** _au Revoir_**


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